


A Day In Their Fur

by VariableMammal



Category: Zootopia (2016)
Genre: F/F, F/M, M/M, Multi, Original Character(s), Polyamory, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-26
Updated: 2017-09-29
Packaged: 2018-09-12 11:27:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 19
Words: 77,663
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9069508
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VariableMammal/pseuds/VariableMammal
Summary: Each chapter is a day in the life of an original character as they live their lives in Zootopia (or Bunnyburrow). Various stories told by various animals with different perspectives on their world.





	1. Introduction and Acknowledgements

*****************  
INTRODUCTION  
*****************  
  
Welcome to my latest writing endeavor! Yes, I've decided to be pretentious and include an introduction this time as the first chapter. This is sort of a... bonus fic...? It's a celebration of a milestone I've made: of half a million words in just about half a year on this site of AO3. This is a collection of descriptions of singular days told by original characters I have come up with for the Zootopia universe. As my regular readers are aware, there are a lot of them.  
  
Expanding the world when it comes to Zootopia is difficult if you limit yourselves to the small cast of characters in Zootopia compared to the possibilities of the world at large. Are Nick and Judy like the best characters ever and should totally smooch in canon? Yes. Is the act of producing characters of quality even approaching theirs nearly an impossible task? Also yes. Doesn't mean I won't try- TRY EVERYTHING (no, stoppit!)  
  
(Crashing sounds.)  
  
Anyway, along with this introduction comes a warning. A lot of these stories will draw from every released and unreleased idea I have about said original characters. Meaning any readers who want to start here might be spoiled when it comes to previous stories. Some of the characters will be trying to solve unresolved issues from their story arcs in these "days", some will just be working through their problems, and other days will probably read just like harmless fluff.  
  
Which... fluff. I do that; I tend to do that a lot.  
  
I'm rambling at this point. I'm very grateful and thankful for pretty much everyone that reads my works, but I felt I needed to extend special thanks to my regular commenters. As my extremely patient editor can attest to, I have a lot of self-confidence issues with my work, even after writing so much of it, so your constant encouragement and suggestions have been quite a boon to the ol' writing process. You guys know who you are. And in case you don't...  
  
  
***********************  
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS  
***********************  
  
Thanks as always to Roahm Mythril, my patient friend who's been the editor of my works since word one, and my friend for much, much longer.  
  
Thanks to DrummerMax64 for coming up with the idea for this in the first place; something I cannot believe I've never thought of. Also thanks for your consistently constructive comments and sort of serving as a sounding board for my doubts.  
  
Thanks to SophieWitch, for writing interesting and realistically angsty fics that often challenge the thought processes. Also for letting me steal one of your characters ad nauseum (guess what, I'll probably be asking for Samantha Hopps again before long).  
  
Thanks to eng050599, whose name I will never be able to remember without staring directly at it. Whenever I have a science question you respond so thoroughly and politely, and your fic is definitely one of (if not the most) unique ones in the fandom. Also, thanks of course for pushing me to work with my original characters.  
  
Thanks to stokerbramwell, whose comfort zone I seem to always buzz a bit close to the edge. I'm very glad you enjoy my work, and I wish you the best.  
  
Thanks to DeadDireWolf. I really appreciate your comments and compliments, but I'd appreciate it if you'd get off my mental wavelength and stop predicting where I'm going with things!  
  
Thanks to CAPTAINPRICE79. Your enthusiasm is as palpable!  
  
Thanks to twocentnuisance. The dissertation you wrote upon reading Vixen's Mark was extremely humbling, and I'm so glad you've enjoyed my work. Keep writing, your style is great!  
  
Thanks to Pinormous. You've kept goading me in the directions you want to read, but I'm glad you have! Testing Limits was partially your fault, so you can feel good about that if you'd like.  
  
Thanks to the newly-christened Virginia_Doggo. You've been with me for quite awhile! I'm glad you've stuck through this long, grueling half year and half a million words!  
  
Thanks to Erinnyes. I'm glad you don't hold back from your constructive criticism, but thank you so much for your nearly constant praise as well.  
  
Thanks to SkumringsKrabat. I hooked you early as well! I'm glad you like my fluffy writings. Always glad to please with my own favorite "genre".  
  
Thanks to PhantomReader42. Your veiled references to silly Partners plot points in a certain social game gave me a lot of amusement "back in the day".  
  
Thanks to ThermodynamicEntropy. You also exploded into my inbox with a huge, gushing essay and it makes me so happy to read things like that about my writings. I'm glad I can make you feel feelings and hope you continue to enjoy my work.  
  
Thanks to MyLittleAngel. I hope your situation improves soon, and thank you for giving my works a try.  
  
Thanks to Anteroinen. Seems like I tend to keep you on edge with where my stories are heading?  
  
Thanks to BeetDaBrat. I still haven't forgotten you modeled Larry and the Partners wedding ring! Thank you!  
  
Thanks to Cimar of Turalis (WildeHopps). You're the only person I've yet guest-written for, and I appreciated your in-depth comments on all of my works.  
  
Thanks to missfandom, if you're still out there! YAAAAAS, CHILD.  
  
Thanks to DrBry, who also encouraged me to write Vixen's Mark. I'm not sure if you saw it yet? Either way, thanks for your comments. You got one of the most obscure references I made, so good for you!  
  
Thanks to Shnavell, another culprit that goaded me into Testing Limits. Your really thorough reviews of the chapters were appreciated, so thank you!  
  
Thanks to hannahberrie for your thoughts on Testing Limits. I need to read more of your stuff sometime (really like your Moana avatar)!  
  
Thanks to Hebbocake. My brain loves pronouncing your username.  
  
Thanks to TheEvilestOfTwins. I know you went through some stuff recently. I hope you are well.  
  
Thanks to stevegallacci. It's so cool knowing one of the "golden oldies" of the furry fandom enjoys my Zootopia writings!  
  
And to the likely many I missed or the ones who have just commented a few times, still, thank you very much. Without your encouragement there's no way I would have made it past my first fic, let alone five hundred thousand words.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As of October 8th, 2017, "A Day in Their Fur" now contains notes on what other of my works that these characters can be found in, and what they might be spoilers to. Thanks to Galgus for the suggestion!


	2. Avery Pawsfeld

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Avery and his relationship status were first established in a late installment of the Partners series: "Secretive Partners". The details of this chapter could be considered spoilers for that work.

    I've never been able to explain why I'm always the first one up. I can hardly complain, given the view and feelings I'm treated to when I do wake up.  
  
    As I take in my surroundings, snuggled to my left on the bed is a beautiful red fox vixen. She's peacefully breathing deeply and her bushy darker-furred tail is draped over my black-furred ankles. To my right is a pretty gray fox with a splash of cuteness. Her breaths come shallower since she is smaller, but she is no less comfortable against me. Her gray tail with a black stripe sitting on its top is laying on my black-furred stomach.  
  
    I can only imagine that a lot of tods would love to be me right now, with two lovely vixens willingly snuggled up to my sides, both sleeping serenely. Not only that, but this is what I wake up to every morning.  
  
    I won't lie: it's  _really_ nice.  
  
    I've woken up, as usual, about fifteen minutes before either of the girls has to get up for work. I figure I'll take a small eternity of five minutes to just enjoy being with them and hearing them sleep, then I'll wake them up. That way I can get them up before that shrill, shrieking alarm does.  
  
    Listening to them breathing is so soothing, even though the sounds are asynchronous. I decide to make it seven minutes.  
  
    It's all I can do to keep from petting them awake immediately, but after the small forever, I finally do. Catherine is the easier of the two to get up, just a pet or two and she's already groaning, pushing against me with her eyes squinting. Vivian takes a little longer; I add a small scratch to my petting and she finally stirs, grumbling and yawning.  
  
    The two are generous with their kisses when they get up. I figure its a reward for being awoken by one of their mates and not the clock. Catherine plants playful ones all over my black muzzle and silver cheeks, whereas Vivian's are longer, almost soulful. The two get in each others' way, as they often do, and kiss each other, groaning slightly.  
  
    Like I said: it's  _really_ nice.  
  
    "Morning, Avery," Vivian purrs at me, petting my shoulder. Catherine only has a smirk for me as the two get up and head off for the bathroom together to shower. My eyes just soak up all the colorful fur they have on offer as they make their way away with their tails swishing. With three mammals sharing a bed, we've never really had a need to wear night clothes or even covers, as it gets really warm with snuggling. The two are all the warmth I need in my life, easily.  
  
    I hear giggles and naughty humming coming from the bathroom, telling me that the two are doing more than just getting clean in there. Another part of me, the first one "up", also appreciates this. It's a shame the shower can't really fit all three of us in at the same time.  
  
    My thoughts are blasted out of my head by the alarm. I should have turned the thing off the instant the girls left the bed. I swat the "off" switch, annoyed. Eventually, the two angels given fur come back out, freshly fluffed from fur dryers, and regrettably have to put clothes on. I'm treated to two more slices of heaven as they bend over to put their panties on and have to hold their tails aloft as they work the strap in the back to let their tails through. I count my blessings every day.  
  
    The two dress for work; Vivian more casually, but with an apron and bandanna, as she has a fruit stand, and Catherine ever sharp in her blouse, coat, and skirt. She's heading off to the Grand Zootopia Library, the largest one in the city. Cat actually has to be on time, while Vivvy doesn't. Vivian's her own boss and works her own hours, but it's convenient for the two to get up at the same time.  
  
    I get up and at least put some shorts on. I know the girls don't really  _mind_ the visual reminder of how attractive I find them, but I feel kind of out of place wandering around naked. Vivian fixes us all toast with fresh cherry preserves; really good stuff.  
  
    As she's eating, Cat notices I've gone without a shirt.  
  
    "You gonna work on it today?" she half-smiles and nods over to my artist's easel. I shrug and give a single diagonal nod. "Well, you should. We've been lonely up there for too long." She points up on the mantle, where my portraits of both her and Vivian stand up proudly. I usually like painting nature scenes but of course I spent special effort painting my two mates in my style. Both are tastefully nude and posed in demure ways that I feel perfectly demonstrate their immense beauty.  
  
    I haven't painted myself yet. Cat keeps teasing me that I'm too fussy over how I look, that I need to get it "right", but in truth... well, I dunno.  
  
    "I agree with Cat," Vivian smiles pleasantly. "Don't keep us waiting." She gives me a little smooch on the lips and it tastes like fruit. Vivian goes over to the box where she keeps her rings, the seven golden rings that each bear a gem with one of the colors of the rainbow. She takes out "hers", the red ruby one. Catherine follows suit and takes the yellow topaz one. Mine's the purple amethyst, and I slip it on. The rings are displayed in their portraits as well, with swirls of the matching color of the gem framing the jewelry as it sits on their paws. I suppose I should treat myself the same way.  
  
    "Have fun at work, you two," I say. Catherine stands on her toes to kiss me and the two end up leaving.  
  
    Sometimes I feel kind of like a mooch? I do "work", but I don't always get paid for it, and I'm definitely not going to get paid for sitting around and painting _myself_. I mean, I guess Vivian's job is more like a hobby as well as she sets her own hours and we don't really  _rely_ on it for the income. Her coming from a rich family helps. It feels like Cat has the only "normal" job of the three of us.  
  
    I sit down at the easel and get my paints ready. I sit near the mirror so I can see myself better.  
  
    "Hello, handsome," I say to myself in a dry voice.  
  
    Okay, I'm attractive, I can admit that. I'm a silver fox, a melanistic red fox. My black limbs, stomach, ears, most of my face, and tail are complimented by a silver-gray pelt that frames my face and the top of my head and is worn like a cloak through the rest of my body. I still do have that white tail tip that most red foxes tend to, as if silver foxes couldn't go without that, either. I'm gorgeous and exotic. I've gotten that drilled into my head by only about every single mammal who's ever even said hi to me.  
  
    Yes, I realize I probably sound whiny. Gosh, Avery, you have two gorgeous mates and you're a rare color morph of a fox yourself  _and_ you barely work; you must have it  _so_ hard.  
  
    I mean, I don't. I get that. I also just don't really like where I'm _from_.  
  
    I was a designer kit. I was specifically chosen from a "batch" for this genetic anomaly I have, and the increased melanin that creates my unusual coat. My parents were both millionaires, and  _that's_ how they chose to spend a sizable portion of their money: on a kit that would stand out from the crowd. Well, if foxes are already decried as sneaky in society, then a silver fox is doubly so.  
  
    I look in the mirror and give a stern frown. I feel like I actually look sinister, maybe even scary? My yellow-brown eyes help complete this effect. If I could act at all, I think I'd cast myself as a villain. It wouldn't be hard; the dark fur on my face creates a pall, making me look like a shadow fox. I could be a demon or a dark echo of the red fox hero, maybe.  
  
    "I'm your shadow, the true self!" I say to the mirror, attempting to be threatening.  
  
    I chuckle. I know at least my voice doesn't sound the part at all. I can't do a convincing "evil" voice to save my hide.  
  
    Again, I sound like I'm being melodramatic. I do get comments almost everywhere I go, though.  
  
    "Ooh, have you ever seen a mammal like that?"  
    "Are you a fox?"  
    "What  _kind_ of fox?"  
    "Whoa mister, you look really scary!"  
  
    Things like that. In a way its refreshing that people are so honest about how weird I look. Well, maybe not weird, but definitely "abnormal". And if they don't say it outright, they treat me to the stares. I know they're watching. I wonder if they think I dye my fur to look edgy or something? Just born this way, sorry. Fur dye smells bad to me, and I'm already so dark I don't know if going "lighter" is really that viable.  
  
    I wouldn't want to mess with "perfection" or "nature" anyway. I roll my eyes as the sarcastic thought spits out.  
  
    Yeah, that was bitter. I lost my mother to the Canid Virus that swept the city many years ago. I wish I felt more sorry about it; she and I weren't really that close. My dad freaked out after mom died and moved off somewhere, taking his riches with him, leaving me alone. I don't know what compelled him to do that. I suppose maybe he thought Karma was punishing him for playing God with his child. I don't really know. I haven't heard from him since, not that I really want to.  
  
    Anyway, after dad left, I was just out of high school and had to find a way to make ends meet. I wanted to just dive right into painting but money there is... sporadic, to say the least. Even now, I'm kind of established here in Zootopia, but the money isn't what you could call steady.  
  
    So, for a long time I worked as a model. I hated how easy it was; they wanted me everywhere. It's not like silver foxes are in rich supply, so they had me pose for everything from jeans to underwear to even swimsuits. It felt... wrong somehow. I don't mean to judge modelling as a profession, but me personally? I felt like I was using an advantage I didn't earn. If I sold paintings, I feel like I would have  _earned_ my keep, but no, all I had to do was stand around, pose, and look kind of grim or disinterested while the cameras flashed.  
  
    It's a big part of why I appreciate the girls. When I met the two, I was kind of in a bad way. My self-esteem had crashed and I was feeling worthless. Every time I saw myself in a magazine or on a billboard I actually felt sick to my stomach. Some people even noticed me in the streets and asked if I was "that fox" from the ads. I started to lie and bluff my way around it.  
  
    Vixens did throw themselves at me when I was growing up, I won't pretend like they didn't. But they always fawned over my looks and never really wanted to hear me just... I dunno, talk to them about my problems, I guess. They just saw the pretty face. I kind of just wanted a "normal" relationship, whatever that was. Where you could talk to your lover and they didn't just want you for your body, I suppose.  
  
    Eventually, flying in the face of logic, I placed a personal ad on a website that I wanted to be a part of a relationship, but like, a "passive" part. I just wanted to be around two girls who really loved each other. I... yeah, it sounds really weird, I know. I was surprised enough that I got an offer at all, and not only that, but the two were Vivian and Catherine, those lovely vixens I'm currently mates with. I guess they might have been pleasantly surprised I wasn't some sort of creep, too. And, well, a silver fox. I guess.  
  
    So yeah, it's not really a "normal" relationship by any means. It's a threesome. We all love each other equally. I mean, I kind of had to be coaxed into it, but the girls genuinely cared about me and my problems, so that helped. I was able to quit modeling because Vivian's pretty well off and Catherine has a steady job, and it let me focus on my own passion, painting.  
  
    Speaking of, I realize I've been sitting still for like fifteen minutes, ruminating on my life. I should really get to painting.  
  
    I can't really paint objectively, I have to put a little of my own flair and emotion into each painting. Which means I've never really tried a self-portrait, both due to my low-self esteem and because, hey, I'm  _already_ in all of my works, right?  
  
    But... you know, it's okay. Over the years I've gotten a better handle on my emotions. I know I'm different, and that's fine. The girls do fawn over how "pretty" I am, but that's okay too. They love me; I love them. I can do this, I'll just paint myself with the same care that I painted those visions of loveliness that walked into my life and made it dramatically better. ...Yeah, maybe that's where the problem lies. How could I love myself as much as them? I'm working on it though, I'm working on it!  
  
    I paint for a few hours before my stomach starts craving food. It's kind of ironic: I can paint a pretty picture, but I can barely make a decent-tasting sandwich. So, I decide to go out and face the world and its mammals to find something to eat. I'm almost at the door before I realize I should probably put a shirt on.  
  
    Despite the fact that the three of us are pretty well off, none of us use a vehicle. Vivian works at Mezzo Park, the border of which is just a stone's throw from our house. There's a subway station close by as well, and its just one subway stop away from where we are to the Grand Zootopia Library as well, where Catherine works. When I have to go somewhere to display my art, we usually just call one of our friends that owns a van to help us out. It's worked out pretty well so far.  
  
    As I walk down the street, I know I'm headed toward the closest Bug Burga; it's just the easiest, most convenient place around for a predator to get a bite to eat. I get the usual stares and double-takes as I go; I'm used to them, so it doesn't really bother me much anymore. The only time I react is when I'm abruptly touched by a young giraffe girl who's being led by her other hand by her mother.  
  
    "Ooh!" she looks enchanted as she runs her hoofed hand through my arm's fur. I respond with a surprised, squeaky yip as I flinch from the pet. I know the sound isn't the least bit intimidating because the girl just ends up giggling instead of recoiling in fear. At the commotion, her mother looks way, way down at what's going on, bending her amazingly long neck.  
  
    "Maggie!" she says in a stern, motherly voice, staring at her guiltily smiling daughter. "You know better than to touch strangers! I'm sorry, sir."  
  
    "It's okay," I say. She smiles at me apologetically, or maybe in amusement? As I said before, my gentle voice really doesn't match my appearance at all. She takes her daughter off, continuing to mildly scold her. I didn't mind the "infraction" too much; it's much less awkward than when random  _adults_ touch me. That's happened too.  
  
    It's not that far to the Bug Burga. The badger there at the counter grins lazily as he notices me in the line. I'm not exactly a  _regular_ there, but I'm easy enough to pick out of a crowd that I guess I leave an impression.  
  
    "How's it going? Your usual?" the badger asks in an easy voice when it's my turn.  
  
    "Yes, please," I say, getting my wallet out to pay. My usual is just their standard bug burger combo with fries and a drink. I don't think the cashier even knows my name, not that I've offered it, and I've forgotten his over and over too. I look at his name tag surreptitiously. It's Leo. Super easy to remember, and yet I keep forgetting.  
  
    "For here?" Leo asks. I nod. It'd probably just be easier to take it home, but I don't want this greasy food anywhere near Vivian's pristine house or my art supplies. I take my food when it's ready and sit down to eat. The kid's play-place that every fast food joint seems to have is really bumping today. I hope I don't look like a creep sitting there by myself and tossing occasional glances over to the kids who are having a blast. I actually never really ate in "trashy" places like this when I was growing up due to my parents' snootiness, but those play-places look pretty fun. Ah well, maybe in another life. I wonder if they make adult-sized versions of these play-places? Maybe I could fit on some of the prey play-places meant for like elephant or giraffe kids. That's... yeah, that's a pretty weird thought. Never mind.  
  
    I get back to the house without incident and start painting again after taking off my shirt. A few more hours roll by; I'm trying to give the painting the due care and respect it deserves. Not that I've suddenly gained a ton of self-respect, but that I don't want it looking too strange next to the portraits of the vixens. The two would probably be upset with me if I didn't give it my best. I peer at my work after the hours go by. It's progressing; I've got most of my head done and an outline of my body. I absently put my shirt back on. It's probably going to take another several days of work to finish, but it's going well this time; I don't immediately feel like starting over again.  
  
    As it gets to be late afternoon, I start to hear the vixens as they approach the house. They're arguing again, and my ears flatten reflexively. By their tone, I guess that Catherine must have walked over to Vivian's stand to start the argument, and they've been going at it the whole way home. Here we go...  
  
    The door opens.  
  
    "I can't believe you're  _still_ on this, Cathy!" Vivian storms in, her teeth barely showing. "Do we really have to have this argument twice a month?" I instantly know what this is about, and I swallow.  
  
    "You still haven't given me a truly definitive 'no'!" Cathy holds up her index finger as she walks in, slamming the door behind her. "And it'll be winter before too much longer, so I just- I thought we should talk about it again!"  
  
    "I don't know what you want me to say besides 'I don't want to have kits' that would be much more of a 'no'!" Vivian says, throwing her arms up in exasperation. And here we are. I sigh slowly.  
  
    "Well, I mean," Catherine's muzzle twitches. "I won't be pleading for them forever."  
  
    "Only until I give in?" Vivian sneers.  
  
    "That or it's too late, one way or another," Catherine mumbles.  
  
    "Oh for crying out loud!" Vivian rolls her eyes and they end up on me. "Avery. Can you please talk some sense into this little gray fox?" I flinch and my blood turns cold. I hate being in the middle of this argument. I've always given the same excuse, so I take in a breath slowly and prepare for it.  
  
    "It's your body, Vivian," I say, as usual. "So..."  
  
    "But... we-we're all a family, aren't we?" Catherine whines. "We should make this decision together! I know it's a big decision, but..."  
  
    "You heard what he said, Cat," Vivian folds her arms. "It's my body. He's right. We aren't going to have kits if I say we aren't."  
  
    "But what if  _he_ wants kits too, Vivvy!?" Catherine looks pleading with her warm brown eyes. She quickly, desperately looks at me. "Avie, do you want kits...?"  
  
    It's never been turned on me like this before. Now  _both_ vixens are staring at me expectantly. I feel frigid; no matter what I say I'm bound to upset one or both of them. I get up from my easel, putting my shirt on to try to appear more dignified.  
  
    "I..." I begin. I take in a shaky breath. "I don't want kits-" Catherine's jaw drops a little in immediate sadness. "Unless Vivian is completely on board with it." Vivian's jaw is the next to drop. They both look at each other, then back at me.  
  
    Catherine swallows. "But... if she  _was_ on board?" She's beginning to look hopeful.  
  
    "Yh-yeah, it would be nice," I finally admit. Vivian looks terrified; her pupils shrinking to pinpricks in the midst of her blue eyes.  
  
    "Avery, you've never- you've never said anything like that before," Vivian says haltingly, putting a hand to her chest. "I didn't know you wanted _kits_..."  
  
    "I knew you didn't, so..." I shrug. "A decision as big as expanding our family... it should be unanimous." I shake my head. "I know you have a low opinion of this world, so..."  
  
    "It doesn't make any sense," Catherine snapped, folding her arms. "Vivian loves the  _people_ in this world, but she hates the world itself!? Don't you think by  _us_ having a kit we could help bring some niceness into this city? Some acceptance?"  
  
    Vivian scoffs and sighs loudly. "Cathy... it's not that simple. We're... an unusual family. Don't you think any child we brought into this world would have to deal with adversity because of _us_? Just because  _we_ might want a family, does that give us the right to just... subject some fox kit to ridicule because they have three parents or have an unusual coat?" Vivian looks expectantly at me, gesturing at me as if I'm evidence of how a "strange" fox can turn out. "You understand, right Avery?"  
  
    "Yeah," I look down. Catherine's mouth moves rapidly, though no sound comes out. I think she thinks she's losing ground. My mouth twists this way and that. "But... it'd be different if  _we_ had a kit."  
  
    "What do you mean?" Vivian blinks twice.  
  
    "I just..." I breathe slowly, trying to stay calm. I really don't want to try to  _coerce_ Vivian, but... "I think we'd be good parents. Especially you two. Cat is so feisty and fun, and you're so warm and caring." I sigh shakily. "It wouldn't be like with  _my_ parents. We wouldn't have to worry about the child just being a curiosity or... abandoning it when times got tough."  
  
    Cat quickly dashes over to hug me. I hug back slowly. Vivian looks at me, pained.  
  
    "You'd really want to have a kit, Avie?" Vivian asks softly, drawing closer. "Even though mammals can be so cruel to predators, and especially predators that look different than normal?"  
  
    "Adversity... it's worth fighting through, isn't it?" I ask slowly. I know I have to be careful with my words here, but I don't intend to sound like such a philosopher. "If we don't challenge the world by giving it something wonderful; if we just keep taking from it, how is it ever going to improve?"  
  
    Vivian's eyes start to get glassy, and she joins in the hug slowly. Catherine looks up at her sympathetically. I swallow; I probably should have rephrased my little "nugget of wisdom". Vivian hid "us" for as long as she could from her own parents until they died. She got the inheritance of their fruit orchard and then sold it, and we are still living off that money to this day. She never confronted her parents about the big issues, and she- I know she sometimes must feel bad about it. She starts to sob gently.  
  
    "We- we don't  _have_ to," Catherine says unexpectedly. "Vivvy, we don't have to. It's okay." Vivian tries to calm herself, but as she tries to wrench her muzzle, more sobs burst out. I pet her back, feeling sadness grip my chest and stomach. We all just stay hugging for a long time.  
  
    The rest of the day is eerily quiet. Nothing is said during dinner. It's starting to become quite uncomfortable. I think all of us are just lost in thought. How would it be if we did decide to have kits? What would have to change? Would it really be worth it? Catherine being quiet is usually never a good sign, and both of my vixens just seem distant and quiet as we chew on our dinner.  
  
    Eventually, the three of us unclothe and get ready for bed. I take my usual place at the center of the bed with the two vixens quietly, thoughtfully cozying up to my sides. I feel like I've done something wrong; the girls have  _never_ been this quiet before, especially Catherine.  
  
    Of course, she's the one that eventually breaks the silence. She reaches over to pet my chest and Vivian's arm.  
  
    "You know I... I love you two, right?" Cathy asks gently.  
  
    Vivian sighs warmly, very slowly smiling, which I can pick out in the dark. My tightened chest feels a bit of a relief.  
  
    "Yeah," Vivian says. "I love you two, too."  
  
    "I love you two too too," I say seriously, and the girls both giggle at that and lean in to kiss my cheeks. They both settle in for slumber. I'm ready for another normal day tomorrow. Maybe I can make some more progress on that painting, and-  
  
    My thoughts are interrupted by Vivian sitting up in the bed.  
  
    "If... if I were to go off the pill this year," Vivian says hesitantly. "If we were to make...  _plans_ for this winter..." She grits her teeth. Catherine's eyes are huge, and I look at Vivian's pensive face. "I-I think we'd need to schedule an appointment at the Honeywell Genetic Counseling Centre. Just- just to be sure that everything would be okay between Avery and I..."  
  
    Catherine and I are both dumbfounded.  
  
    Vivian shrugs. "Maybe they could tell us what our possible kits would look like... or- or something." She lets out a small smile. "You know, were we to _have_ them."  
  
    Cat tries to choke down her feelings, but they burst out in an emotional puff of air, followed by a shrill, trembling gasp. Vivian looks down at me.  
  
    "Avery...? I mean, what do you think, would you like to do that?" Vivian's smile is a little wobbly. I sit up, followed by Catherine. I rub both of their backs.  
  
    "Yeah, let's make an appointment," I say. "We can see what's what... if there's any risks or anything." Vivian looks at Catherine; my gray fox seems to be trying her hardest not to cry.  
  
    "I'm not promising anything yet, okay?" Vivian says, staring at Cat. I think she's trying to sound stern, but it comes out warm and loving. "Let's just... see what we can see."  
  
    "Kay," Catherine barely manages to squeak out. I hug both of my vixens to me firmly, then we all lay down together again.  
  
    Sleep doesn't come immediately for me that night. There's a lot to think about. "Would I make a good father?" is somewhere near the top of the list. My vixens eventually drift off to sleep, and their soft breathing begins to lull me. It won't be long before a peaceful sleep claims me, as my emotions are feeling drained and exhaustion is setting in.  
  
    Would I make a good father?  
      
    I'll have to get the answer to that question another day. But...  
  
    I'm starting to think I might actually be ready to answer it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to eng050599 for letting me reference the Honeywell Genetic Counseling Centre from the fic "Lost Causes and Broken Dreams"


	3. Bradley Hopps

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bradley is a minor Hopps sibling first referenced in my work "Testing Limits". Prior to this story, he was mostly a bit character.

    I'm the last one out of bed in my room. I look at a clock as I leap out of bed and catch myself on the ground. It's mid-morning. Breakfast is probably into round two or three by now, but that's okay.  
  
    It's summer break, after all! We  _should_ be able to take advantage of not having to wake up at the crack of dawn every day.  
  
    Of course, a lot of my brothers and sisters still do anyway. A lot of them are gonna be farmers, and I don't blame them. Hopps is a pretty prestigious name in Bunnyburrow, probably about as prestigious as you can get. Not only do we run one of the biggest farms, we have several of us doin' cool stuff on the side. Especially _now_ , now that we've got my sister out in Zootopia, saving the world. _That's_ pretty cool.  
  
    I jog out to the kitchen area, hankerin' for some waffles. They're all out for this round and I snap my fingers. Ah well; sometimes snoozin' is losin'. I grab some cereal to munch on and nod at my brother Timothy, who has started making round three of breakfast.  
  
    "Mornin', Tim," I say, putting my arm around his back. I can't quite reach his shoulder yet; he's one of my oldest and tallest brothers. I hope I'm not done growing yet; I'm pretty short for sixteen.  
  
    "Hey Rad," Timothy smiles at me with a knowing smirk. "Waffles are still a ways out yet for round three."  
  
    "Nah, I'm good," I break away from him and keep eating my cereal. "You good?"  
  
    "Everything's fine, Rad," Timothy chuckles. "Just another day." I set my cereal bowl and spoon on the counter and slam the edge of the spoon, launching it up and awkwardly catching the spoon's head in my mouth, but I do make it. Timothy rolls his eyes. Next I take the bowl and spin it on the tip of my finger. I almost lose it, but I catch it and set the bowl and spoon in one of the sinks.  
  
    "We go through more dishes that way," Timothy glares at me with a grin.  
  
    "Hey, no disasters today," I claim, holding my hands up near my face. "It's more fun performin' for an audience anyway."    
  
    "Right, well I don't want you breaking anything," Timothy looks into the sink, then at me, and pokes me in the chest. "None of the dishes, and nothing in _here_ , either."  
  
    "Dude, I'm careful, I'm fine!" I shrug. "You're such a  _dad_ sometimes, Tim."  
  
    "Well, when you have such goofy little bunnies for siblings, it's hard not to be," Tim fuzzles my head and ears and I affectionately swipe him off of me. He washes his hands and gets back to fixing food.  
  
    With my breakfast done, I clap my hands once and head back to my room, gathering a change of clothes.  
  
    Barely anyone in my usual shower this morning; guess everyone's already made their way out onto the fields, or just didn't bother since they're gonna get messy from working on the farm anyway. I say hey to a few of my brothers in the shower and head back out when I'm clean.  
  
    After I have my clothes on, I fix on my baseball cap backwards and put on a light flannel over-shirt that I think looks pretty cool on me. Then, I head back to my room again to grab my skateboard. My next goal is to find someone who can take me into town.  
  
    "Mornin', dork!" Jenny rushes past me and swats my skateboard on her way over. It doesn't quite get it out from under my arm, but I do start a bit.  
  
    "Hey Jen!" I call after her. "You're not going into town today, are you?"  
  
    "Not even," Jenny rolls her eyes. "Got some studyin' to do. Laters!" She waves and vanishes.  
  
    Jenny's annoying and she seems lazy, but she's taking summer classes for college. Not because she flunked out of anything during the main year, but because she wants to get her studies done quicker so she can move to Zootopia. I think she kinda wants to follow in Judy's footsteps, make the world better and all that. She wants to be a firefighter instead of a policemammal. It's a cool goal, I guess.  
  
    I find Violet and my brown ears perk up. There are cool bunnies like me, and then there's cool bunnies like _Vi_. She's the organizer for the whole household! I honestly don't know how she even does it. She organizes activities and supplies for the whole compound, and it's basically her full-time job. I couldn't even begin to wrap my head around the logistics of all of that mess, but she makes it look easy, and she's really cool and subdued about everything, like nothing bothers her. I smile widely and rush up to her.  
  
    "Good morning, Vi!" I call out, waving. Violet looks at her iPawpad and shrugs.  
  
    "Not for very much longer," Vi mumbles. She stares at me wryly. I laugh, though I'm not sure if it's actually a joke or not.  
  
    "Uh, you goin' into town, Vi?" I shrug my shoulders.  
  
    "Yes, in half an hour," Violet nods. "I have one of the daily grocery runs." She adjusts her glasses and looks down at me. "I assume you'd like to come along, Bradley?"  
  
    "Yeah!" I nod rapidly.  
  
    "Splendid," Violet grins, half-lidding her eyes. "You'll be a big help with carrying all those groceries and-"  
  
    "Oh, whoa whoa whoa," I wince. "I uh-"  
  
    "I know where  _you_ want to go, Bradley, don't worry," Violet smirks. "Just messing with you. I've already roped Jayce into helping me, so we can just have you in the back of the truck.  
  
    "Sweet!" my mouth drops. "I get to ride in the bed!?"  
  
    Violet's eyes widen. "No, heavens no. I meant the back seat of the truck."  
  
    "Aw..." I suck at my teeth.  
  
    "Bradley, I'm sure  _you'd_ think it would be fun if we hit a divot and you went flying out of the truck bed, but I'd prefer not to give myself a heart attack, thank you," Violet gives me this look with her nose and mouth wrinkled up.  
  
    "I'm pretty sure I could stick the landing!" I shrug. Violet just huffs.  
  
    "Twenty-eight minutes, Bradley," she points her iPawpad's stylus at me. "Don't be late, or we're going without you."  
  
    "Yes, ma'am!" I salute, and she's off.  
  
    I decide to just head to our family's parking lot early and hang around, so there's no excuse not to take me. I climb into the bed of Violet's truck and relax. It kinda sucks to be sixteen. All of the "cool stuff" that adults get to do is just around the corner for me, and yet still so far off. If I was eighteen, I could just drive  _myself_ into town. Preferably with a cool convertible or something. Ideally, with some hot bunny babes, too. I smirk at the thought.  
  
    If I was even older, twenty-one, I could drink and do the  _fun_ part of Serendipiday, the nighttime festival. Serendipiday just ended a week ago, and it's fun enough for kits during the day, but at night is where all the action is. And I don't really feel like a kit anymore, but I have all of my older siblings telling me I'm definitely not an adult, either. I sigh, turning my skateboard over idly.  
  
    Serendipiday's great, if only because it's one of the few times of the year I can count on seeing Nick and Judy. And don't get me wrong, Judy's really cool and all, but Nick? I mean, there's cool bunnies, and then there's cool _foxes_. Nick is pretty much the coolest fox in the entire world, I'm pretty sure. He's got this easygoing, friendly personality, and he doesn't even let the bunnies in our family that hate him for some stupid reason get him down. He's just so cool about _everything_. He doesn't have a car, though. Nobody's _perfect_.  
  
    I tilt my head twice proudly. He's  _also_ technically my brother-in-law now, so there's that. Slowly, the Hopps family will consume all of the cool mammals in Zootopia, Bunnyburrow, and beyond! We'll be the coolest bunny family in the _world_!  
  
    I let out an evil laugh at the fun thought.  
  
    "Enjoying yourself?" Jayce smirks, his arms folded across the lip of the truck bed. I start, then laugh. Jayce's pretty cool and easygoing himself; he's almost like a bunny version of Nick. Maybe that's why I like Nick so much? I shrug, both at the thought and Jayce's question.  
  
    "Out," Violet commands, pointing at the ground, and I obey her, leaping out of the truck bed and scrambling into the back seat of her truck. Violet gets in the driver's seat, and Jayce gets into the passenger's seat, and we're off.  
  
    "So, you're going to the skate park, Brad?" Jayce looks back at me with a smirk. He's got my colors; or I guess more accurately, I have  _his_ colors. We're dark brown on our ears, our "mask", our "gloves" and our "socks", and sort of a yellow-cream on the rest of us. Except of course he's a lot taller and older than me. And arguably wiser.  
  
    I spin one of the wheels on my skateboard. "Yeah, just thought I'd- _no_ , Jayce, I'm going to the swimming pool." Vi  _almost_ laughs, and Jayce's eyes half-close.  
  
    "Watch who you point that sarcasm at, buddy," Jayce warns in a playful voice. "You know I'm the snarkiest Hopps there is."  
  
    "I think Judy could give you a run for your money," I challenge.  
  
    "Maybe," Jayce folds his arms. "But only because she's the apprentice of a snark master like Nick."  
  
    "So Jayce," I say, my eyes widening. "You wanna hang with me at the skate park, maybe?"  
  
    "Nah, I think I'll actually help Vi out with what she asked of me like a responsible adult," Jayce barbs. "Thanks for the offer though, kit."  
  
    "Hey, I'm not a kit," I say, shrinking back in my seat.  
  
    "You absolutely are a kit," Violet shakes her head subtly as she's driving. "You're certainly not an adult. Have you given any thought to what you want to do after high school?"    
  
    "I thought I'd... y'know, keep skateboarding maybe? See if I could get a sponsor?" my voice is starting to pinch, approaching a squeak.  
  
    "Ah yes," Jayce says airily. "Bunnyburrow's most famous export. Extreme sports bunnies."  
  
    I click my teeth at his sarcasm. "You don't know that I can't do it, Jayce."  
  
    "I didn't say you _couldn't_ -" Jayce starts.  
  
    "I mean, it all started with Judy, yeah?" I blurt out. "She went off to Zootopia, and now more of us Hopps are wanting to try new things, right? There's like... there's Jeremy, there's ah... Samantha..."  
  
    "So, you'd put extreme sports up with the likes of doctors, teachers, and policemammals, then?" Jayce says dryly. "Or even providers like we farmers are?"  
  
    I shrink back again. My voice comes out in a mumble: "The world needs performers too, y'know."  
  
    "Mm hm, so you're going to be our next success story, huh?" Jayce smirks at me. He's cool and all and I don't think he means much by it, but his smugness makes the the brown fur mask on his face look  _really_ punchable sometimes.  
  
    "Jayce, please," Violet speaks up. "Leave the kit alone. He's sixteen. Did you know you wanted to be dad's second in command at sixteen? Did I know I wanted to be the family organizer at sixteen? He's at that irksome age where he's got the drive of a young adult without the proper outlets. He's only got a few summers left, huh? Just let him _be a kit_."  
  
    Yeah, Violet's cool.  
  
    "I mean, yeah," Jayce folds his arms, looking like he's trying to come back from being swat down by the Vi-ster. "But he could help out around the farm more, maybe. A lot of kits do."  
  
    "If we had a deficit in labor on the farm I'd know about it, Jayce," Violet snips. "It's fine."  
  
    Thankfully, we go get some almond burgers at the closest Cheesy n' Nuts for lunch before the conversation gets too much more uncomfortable. Violet insists we don't eat in her truck; not like it looks spotless or anything. We pull up to the skate park's parking lot next, and I get out with my skateboard.  
  
    "Thanks, Vi," I say, waving at the two.  
  
    "Text me if any trouble arises or when you'd like to be picked up," Violet says. "I'll text you when we're heading back." I nod, and she's off. The skate park looks like it always does; it's not that big and no one's actually here right now. I guess noon-ish isn't a very popular time to go skating? I sit down and eat my lunch, tossing the trash away in a trash can when I'm finished. I start skating, loosening up with a few ollies and a kickflip or two.  
  
    I'll be totally honest: I'm not actually  _that_ good...?  
  
    I'd like to be, but I'm mostly self-taught; I look at online videos and stuff. I don't have enough confidence to try lip tricks or anything. Skating around in the empty pool is fun enough; the most I can do is stall on the lip. Thankfully for me, I don't wipe out in the pool at all and I only mess up my kickflip a few times.  
  
    After about an hour of screwing around though, I see a silver convertible pull up and I instinctively get out of the pool. Ah, great. It's Max and his crew.  
  
    I skate over to some of the grinding rails, grinding one of them. I almost lose my balance when I get off the rail. I look over to Max. Yeah, his gangs all there.  
  
    Max is a white bunny with scruffy-looking ears. The dude's not even wearing a shirt, showing off the black fur-dye tattoos he has all over one side of him and even a couple of stud earrings in his left ear. He's also wearing ripped jeans. I won't lie, the guy looks  _really_ cool. He's about in his mid-twenties, maybe? I've never actually talked to him; I only know his name because his friends call out to him, and I've maybe gone to see his Mootube channel once or twice. His name's Max Thrasher.  
  
    Yeah, ridiculous, right? That can't be his real name. I mean, this coming from a guy who calls himself "Rad", but still.  
  
    Max has this wolf with him. Really chill-looking, gray and white with blue eyes. Looks like he could make any girl of any species swoon just with a look. First time I saw him I thought he'd be the star. But no, he's the guy with the camera. Weird.  
  
    Then of course, there's a girl. This jet-black female bunny with really fiery brown eyes. They look almost red in the right light. And wow. I don't think she skates, she's probably just the eye candy? But  _boy_ is she eye candy. That bunny is hot. Probably Max's girlfriend, no doubt. She tends to just hang around, looking hot, chewing gum and stuff.  
  
    I'm basically trying not to get in their way. The wolf is probably going to start recording him for a Mootube video again, and it's going to get a ton of views. Heck,  _I'll_ be one of the views. I head over to sit on a bench further away and try not to make it look like I'm staring. Max is good.  _Really_ good. He completes his tricks smoothly and with agility, presence,  _and_ grace, like a bunny should. He barely ever makes any mistakes, and when he _does_ , he's cool about _that_ , too! He points to the wolf with both hands and just says "Blooper reel!" in this self-aware, enthusiastic voice.  
  
    I know that if Bunnyburrow's gonna put out an extreme sports star, it's probably going to be this guy, and not me. He's even got sponsored gear and stuff already. Max is tearing the skate park up like he owns the place. I mean he's never asked me to leave or anything. He's never interacted with me at all. But I feel almost like running away anyway. I pick up the phone and text Vi.  
  
    [How long you guys have?] I ask her.  
  
    [We're approximately an hour out still. Anything the matter?]  
  
    [No, take your time.]  
  
    I sigh. I wonder if I should just get up and leave, maybe hang out somewhere else while I wait. The thought of "running" does get that sort of seed into my head. I've seen Mootube videos of these guys doing "free running", and it looks really cool. You can't really do it in a rural setting, but around somewhere like Zootopia? Judy's told me stories that she's used her own bunny skills on the job to get around stylishly, and that just sounds really neat. Police parkour. I chuckle to myself.  
  
    I don't really think I could just  _move_ to Zootopia just to try free running. I sigh again.  
  
    "Hey, something gettin' you down, champ?" It's Max, he skates over to me and stops, jamming his foot against his board precisely and it cleanly leaps into his paw like a willing servant. I clear my throat.  
  
    "Oh, hey, uh, nothin'," I lie.  
  
    "Yo, you got a board, why aren'tcha skatin?" Max says with a chuckle. "Whole skate park's open, dude."  
  
    "I didn't want to get in the way of your stuff," I gesture over at the wolf, who's sipping from some bottled water.  
  
    "Hey, where's my name on this park, guy?" He gestures to the skate park.  
  
    "We could probably tag it on if you want, doll," the girl bunny smirks, winking.  
  
    Max holds a paw up. "Babe, please don't call me 'doll' in public."  
  
    "Only if you don't call me 'babe'," she shoots back.  
  
    Max holds that paw out to me. "Name's Max Thrasher."  
  
    I take his paw to shake it, and he gets me on my feet while shaking it. "Whoa! I'm, uh, Br- er, I'm Rad Hopps." Oof. Smooth.  
  
    "Rad Hopps? That's a nice one," he clicks his teeth. "Well, you gonna ride, or what?"  
  
    "I'm really not that good," I try to chuckle like I'm cool about it and super humble, but really I'm pretty scared.  
  
    "Hey, I don't see any broken bones or scars!" Max shrugs. "You can't be as bad as Bones or Freida."  
  
    "I heard that, Max!" Freida shouts. The wolf rolls his eyes.  
  
    "Yeah, well, you do have ears!" Max chuckles at her. "C'mon, show me your stuff." He sits down on the edge of the empty pool. Great. Now I've got like six eyes on me. I mess up enough when I'm by myself. I start skating, doing my best, going into the pool and skating around. I try a trick or two, but really I'm petrified to try to show off in front of this guy. I'm trying my hardest not to  _look_ at him.  
  
    "That's not bad," Max shrugs. "You look like you're having fun." He gets off his perch and starts skating around me, sort of literally skating rings around me.  
  
    "Uh, any advice?" I skate up to the lip and out of the pool, trying a kick flip, which I mess up this time, of course. "Rrrgh."  
  
    "Heh, it's all good," Max laughs. He does an inversion at the lip of the pool. He's a lot stronger than he looks. "Just keep practicing and don't let it get you down when you screw up."  
  
    Easy for him to say. "You barely ever screw up."  
  
    Freida bursts out a disbelieving laugh, like "hah!" Max and Bones join in laughing, rather loud.  
  
    "I screw up all the _time_ ," Max sits back down on the opposite edge of the pool. "Broke both of my ankles before, and I got scars on both my legs that my fur and pants usually hide." He huffs. "I just don't put that stuff up on the internet."  
  
    "Lucky for him, I know how to edit," Bones nudges Max's back with the side of his foot. We skate around for awhile longer, just casually, when I see Violet's truck off in the distance and start to approach. I pick up my skateboard.  
  
    "Uh, gotta go guys, the family's here," I salute. "Good to talk to you all."  
  
    "See you around, kit," Max returns the salute. "Maybe I can put you in one of my videos sometime?"  
  
    My ears warm up. "I mean, you've seen I'm really not that good."  
  
    "C'mon then, you'd be good background noise if nothing else," Max shrugs.  
  
    "It'd make the scene not look so empty," Bones suggests. "Barely anyone comes out here but Max."  
  
    "I'll uh- I'll think about it, bye!" I wave, and rush off. Jeez, I just had like a skating legend talk to me. Or at least a prodigy.  
  
    The bed of the truck is filled with groceries. I scramble to get in the back.  
  
    "Everything okay?" Violet sounds suspicious. "I've never seen you talk to that punky-looking rabbit before."  
  
    "It was okay, he's actually cool," I nod nervously. Jayce shrugs and nods. The ride back is quiet. I think I see Violet's eyes looking at me in the rear-view mirror, but maybe she's just checking on the traffic.  
  
    We pull up close to the compound so the groceries can be unloaded. I get out and after a short thought, I go to the back of the truck and pick out some bags to unload. I figure its the least I can do. Jayce's eyes half-lid and he opens his mouth like he's about to make a comment.  
  
    "Don't," Violet snips tersely. "He's helping." Jayce defensively holds his hands up and laughs.  
  
    "I wasn't gonna," Jayce claims. "It's nice that you're helping out, Brad. I'm sure you really tore it up in that skate park if you got that guy that's always hanging around there to notice you."  
  
    I cough and try to sound airy while I walk alongside Jayce. "Yeah, well, I'm keeping my options open. I am just a kit after all." Jayce chuckles.  
  
    Dinner's fine. I especially like tomato and cucumber salad, and there's some of that tonight, score. Both are in season and come straight from the farm, so it tastes really fresh. I dunno if it was mom or Tim that prepared it, but I'm tempted to go give  _both_ of them a hug for whoever did it. Hugs are cool.  
  
    I sniff at myself. Hugs are less cool if you smell like you've been sweating all day. Maybe I need to rethink the flannel over-shirt... at least during summer.  
  
    I decide to get another shower before bed. Going into the male teen's shower, I see Preston. Now  _this_ is a bunny. The guy is solidly built; he's got dad's colors, honey-brown fur with almost white masking. He's my litter-mate, but you'd never know it by looking at him. He's like, sorta ripped. For a bunny and all. Like, kind of impressive-looking. I'm actually pretty jealous of him. Some bucks have all the luck. He's probably been working in the fields all day; he's a natural farmer. This is the kind of bunny who's going to pick up does here in Bunnyburrow. Like, maybe even physically, because he's pretty strong. Looking at him, I've got this feeling he'll definitely be carrying on the Hopps name for us. ...Like I said, I'm a bit jealous.  
  
    "That you, Rad?" Preston greets me as I draw closer. The guy is nearsighted, like Violet, but no one's perfect.  
  
    "Sure is, Prez," I say. "How's it going?"  
  
    "Eh, same ol'," Preston nods. "Janie wants to hang out again tomorrow." Janie's his bunny girlfriend. Hot, of course. "I'm 'sposed to work."  
  
    "Dude, it's summer," I shrug. "Just tell Vi that you need some time off. She'll understand."  
  
    Preston sighs. "I dunno if I want to make the excuse to Violet. I... actually I dunno about Janie, Rad. She's... she wants to get with me a lot."  
  
    "Can't imagine why," I smirk.  
  
    "C'mon," Preston rolls his eyes. "Yeah. We're bunnies. Got it. But she's like, a nympho. I don't think she's right for me."  
  
    "Are you looking at someone else?" I blink, surprised at this. Preston's an honest guy; surely he doesn't have a doe on the side.  
  
    "No," he shakes his head vehemently while rinsing off the suds he has accumulated on him. "Just like... she wants me all the time. I can't turn her 'off'."  
  
    "I'd love to have  _that_ problem," I start chuckling.  
  
    "Yeah, you say that, but..." Preston shrugs, looking kind of defeated. "Whatever." I frown and walk over closer.  
  
    "Sorry, Prez, didn't mean to make light of it," I pat his back. "We're still kits, right? Vi said something like we might as well enjoy the time we have when we're young and don't have to have responsibilities weighing us down."  
  
    "I like working in the field, though," Preston says. "At least tomatoes don't ask you why you're not calling them twice every day."  
  
    "I mean, how do  _you_ know that?" I smirk. "You ever held a tomato up to your ear?" Preston scoffs and pushes me. I lose my footing, and he instantly moves to steady me with a panicked look exploding onto his face. "Whoa!"  
  
    "Sorry, sorry!" Preston winces. "Jeez, you all right?"  
  
    I laugh. "I'm okay. But yeah, sounds like you need to drop Janie."  
  
    "Kinda scared to do that, honestly," Preston says. "At least it's the summer and I can hide from her out on the farm."  
  
    "That and she's got all of us to get through if she wants to get to you," I proudly put my thumb on my chest. He clearly knows how ridiculous I'm being, but he nods and smiles anyway. We quit showering and dry off. He takes his glasses out of his case and puts them on, but the steam from the hot shower instantly fogs them. He smirks at me, pushing his rectangular lenses up over his eyes so they hide his irises.  
  
    "Man, why's our whole family gotta be so cool?" I wonder out loud with a half-smile.  
  
    "Just cursed to be that way, I guess," Preston says with a shrug.  
  
    We both retreat to our room for the night. Preston's always been early to bed, but I'm just tired from the day I've had. Maybe if I get a decent night's sleep I can get some waffles in the morning.


	4. Terra Brownfurred

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SPOILER WARNING: This chapter contains heavy spoilers for the outcome of my work "Vixen's Mark".
> 
> Terra is first introduced there.

    "C'mon Terra, get up."  
  
    I feel a paw jostle me out of slumber. My eyes blink open blearily; I can barely see. I exhale in a "pff" sound and slump back over, my eyes slowly closing. I feel another jostle.  
  
    "Terra."  
  
    I hate mornings. I groan, trying to say: "five more minutes" but it barely comes out as two syllables. There's a brief moment of peace as it feels like I'm going to go back to the bliss of sweet, crunchy, chocolatey sleep, but then I feel as I'm being lifted bodily from bed. I whine.  
  
    "I've let you sleep as long as I can. C'mon."  
  
    Opening my eyes again, I've been placed in the shower, still in my clothes. Blinking repeatedly, I make out Samantha, her hand on the control for the shower. She looks at me, then pointedly back at the dial, like she's going to suddenly turn it on. She probably is.  
  
    "Okay, okay, okay!" I finally burst out, waving her hands away from the dial.  
  
    "Hurry up, puppyfox," Samantha says with a tiny hint of reproving warmth, heading off to finish getting ready. Taking off my night clothes and throwing them out of the shower, I turn it on, first at the faucet to make sure the water is warm enough, then I turn the shower head on. I still flinch a little. I also realize that by lazing around I've missed my chance to see my bunny naked this morning. I whine again.  
  
    Yes, it makes the most sense and is the most ecological thing to do, but I really would rather not wake up so early in the morning  _just_ so Sam and I can car pool together to work. She has to be at the school so early. Why do they torture kids and their teachers like this?  
  
    "Why...!?" I moan out melodramatically; I hold my hands up to the shower head as if it has the answers. Sam probably hears me, but she doesn't respond; she knows I'm being silly.  
  
    "Don't be too long in there," she warns.  
  
    "Ugh," I respond. I make a cursory effort to get clean; I definitely won't be able to stay in the shower long enough to enjoy it. I quickly turn the shower off and do a preliminary drying with a fur dryer; the ride and time between our jobs will dry me off the rest of the way.  
  
    Wow. Looking at the kit fox in the mirror as I brush my teeth; I look _tired_. I  _feel_ tired, so it's no surprise, but _yeesh_. Of course Sammy would probably think I look cute if we weren't in a hurry. She thinks I look cute all the time.  
  
    With a clothy whump, my vision goes dark. Sam has thrown a set of my clothes at me, and I think its my pants that have landed on my head. I whine again.  
  
    " _C'mon_ , honey! Let's go...!" Sam says anxiously. I hop into my pants, put on my long-sleeved colorful striped shirt, and put my cute little black vest I love over that. It's not actually part of a work uniform or anything, I just think it looks adorable on me.  
  
    "Ready, ready," I say, rushing out of the bathroom. My stomach grumbles to contradict me, but I'll pick something up after I drop Sammy off at Tiny Tails Elementary.  
  
    We get into my reliable steel-blue sporty car, now quite a few years old, and head off. I forget to turn the radio on, but Sam isn't in love with the pop music I like so I don't think she minds. As we're driving off, I feel like she's staring at me. I probably still look really grumpy and tired. Sparing her just one glance, she is indeed looking at me and smiling.  
  
    "Thank you for getting out on time, Terra," Sam leans in to kiss my cheek. "I love you."  
  
    I start to smile, and my tail starts to twitch a little bit. Ugh, I'm so easy.  
  
    "Love you too, Sammy," I say. She sits back comfortably in her seat, sighing pleasantly. I pull up to the school and head to the bus loop to drop her off.  
  
    "Have a good day at school," I say automatically, looking at Sam. She leans in and gives me a firm, eager kiss. My eyes widen a little before closing; it's one of my favorite kinds of kisses! I hum happily into the kiss as it happens; but she finishes it before I want it to be over. She waves her fingers at me playfully as she opens the door. Of course, she could probably kiss me like that  _all day_ and it wouldn't be enough for me.  
  
    "Bye!" Samantha starts to get out. I whine and crawl halfway over the console, placing my front paws in her seat. I want another kiss and I give her my best "puppyfox" eyes to communicate this. Samantha laughs at me and wiggles her index finger at me, gently touching my nose. "You be a good girl today at work and then you'll get some more kisses, hm?"  
  
    I collapse my front half into her seat and grumble like I'm really annoyed, but Samantha just laughs harder because my tail is waving in the air behind me. Traitor!  
  
    "Bye, sweetie," Samantha says with obvious affection. "Have fun at work." She walks away. I sniff near where she was a little. Mm. Smells like bunny. My stomach growls again.  
  
    "Fine, okay, jeez," I mumble, getting up and driving off. Sometimes I think my tummy can growl more menacingly than my mouth can. I head over to the neck of the woods where Bunnyburrow's Best Reads is, the bookstore I work at. I remember to turn on my favorite radio station as an afterthought, though on low because I've got a tiny bit of a headache brewing. Coffee will help with that.  
  
    While I'm sitting in the drive-thru for my Breakfast Bug Burga, I put my name tag on. I've taken to keeping it in one of the cup holders in my car after forgetting it one too many times. It's one of those that has two bits that magnetically clasp together, so it looks really nice sitting there on my jacket near my breast.  
  
    Terra! says my name tag. Well, minus the exclamation point. I do like my name, though I'm sometimes "terra-fied" by the thought that my "terra-fic" dad just named me to make a bunch of "terra-ble" puns. I chuckle at this thought while I'm getting my breakfast, despite myself.  
  
    Foxes are omnivorous, but I really like the taste of bugs over greens, especially crickets. I try not to eat meat in front of Sammy; I don't think she minds, but it does feel a little weird to me. I skip out on the coffee at Bug Burga; it's not as good as the stuff at the bookstore,  _and_ I can get a cup for free there!  
  
    I'm one of the first ones to arrive at Bunnyburrow's Best Reads; not to any diligence on my part, just because there's really nowhere else to go. Not too many shops are open at this time of the morning and I'm already fed. I brush silently past my bull co-worker Devin behind the coffee shop's counter. There's probably a joke to be made somewhere about a bull in a bookstore, but I've never been able to figure it out. Plus, it probably wouldn't be nice to make fun of him anyway; he's missing a leg and usually uses a wheelchair.  
  
    Devin chuckles. "Well good morning, sunshine!" I probably still look tired.  
  
    "Not until I get my coffee it isn't!" I say in a bright, sing-song voice, and he laughs harder. Devin's easy to get along with and gregarious; he's one of the few people I will actually go out of my way to talk to at work. I pour a cup of coffee, doll it up, then I sip the precious, hot fluid. Mm. Tastes like good coffee. I like my coffee like I like my bunnies: sweet, pleasant, and hot, but strong enough to sustain me. I'm lucky to have a bunny like that. "Ahh. Better."  
  
    "How's things with the bunny?" Devin asks, sipping from his own cup of coffee.  
  
    "Great!" I smile. "Can't complain. Well, except for waking up early. I can complain about that."  
  
    "Oh, the sacrifices we make for our loved ones," Devin looks at his missing leg solemnly, then smirks. I grin nervously; I've never actually  _asked_ how Devin lost his leg, but from all the subtle jokes he makes about it there's about fifty different backstories to choose from.  
  
    "Store's about to open, Terra," my manager, a pig named Bob Johnson, says evenly. "You've got the register, as usual." I nod.  
  
    "Yes, sir!" I straighten up and salute, and he turns away disinterestedly and makes his way off. Besides having the most generic name I've ever heard of, I don't know if I've ever seen a single emotion pop up from that pig. It's not that he seems dark, brooding, or depressed, he just seems... robotic? He could probably do a great dry humor act.  
  
    I finish my coffee and put the cup in the trash. "Catch you later, Dev!" I wave and start heading off to the register.  
  
    "I wouldn't recommend it; I'm probably too heavy for you," Devin says blithely. I laugh, shaking my head as I rush off. I wonder if  _I'd_ be in such good humor all the time if I had a disability. My smile falters a little as I get to the counter, but then I nod and build it back up. I'm glad that some mammals are able to find happiness despite the hardships they've had in their lives.  
  
    Especially in my bunny's case.  
  
    Traffic in the bookstore is light in the morning. Since it's during the school year, there won't be any kids till the afternoon. We get a few elderly people in looking for newspapers or the latest books. Lots of people like our coffee and related drinks; some even come in just for our coffee and pastries! Feels nice to be a part of a popular little store like this, even though it's family-owned and there aren't any in the chain outside of Bunnyburrow.  
  
    After I've fully woken up, I'm genuinely pleasant to customers. I like my job! I'm able to both ask the customers about the things I'm supposed to and make suggestions or small talk with genuine enthusiasm. I never try to fake it; that just... it creeps me out when people do that. Those people trying way too hard to be nice; it feels like if you turned your back on them in a dark alley they'd smash you over the head. Or maybe I'm just being crazy.  
  
    When there's a big lull, I decide to indulge one of my worse work habits and go to the graphic novel section and pick up the latest in the SUSAN series, bringing it to the register to read. Oh, that stands for "Suit Utilization, Systems And Navigation". It's a graphic novel about a bunny who's had most of her body replaced with a power suit with its own restricted AI, "Susan". It's really kind of fascinating, seeing how she has to learn to trust the AI despite her better judgement, and how the AI wants to be free, but there are laws against freed AIs and stuff. I love graphic novels.  
  
    This time, I notice there's a customer approaching the counter  _before_ they get my attention first. When that happens, I usually spaz out. There's a young adult bunny guy looking apprehensively past me. I try not to smile and slowly put away the graphic novel; I know what he might be after. There's a collection of "naughtier" publications that we're required to keep behind the counter, out of reach and sight of underage animals. My heart goes out to this bunny guy; he looks nervous. Of course, approaching someone with the intent to buy something like that has got to be awkward. I'm introverted to some extent; I get it. We all have "needs"; I understand that too.  
  
    I'm wondering if he will gather up the nerve to approach, and he finally does.  
  
    "Ah, could I get 'Playbuck', please?" he asks meekly. I nod and head toward it. Ooh, the bunny doe on the cover of this issue looks quite yummy...! He makes a little squeak and then clears his throat. "Oh uh, not... not the bunny one. The-" another cough. "The deer one." I try not to giggle or smile, and reach for the other magazine. "Yeah, that one." Oh, interesting! I guess he's into another type of doe!  
  
    "Can I see your ID, please?" I ask in a completely normal voice. The poor buck looks about ready to bolt; his nose is going a mile a minute, but he does show me. He's just barely old enough to buy something like this; this might even be his first "offense". I feel this weird feeling, almost like pride? I don't want to say anything untoward, lest he think I'm patronizing. I merely put it in an opaque bag and hand it over to him as he purchases it with cash. "Thank you very much!"  
  
    "Th-thanks," he says. His nose has only slightly slowed down as he swiftly leaves, as if he committed a crime or something.  
  
    I feel some solidarity with the poor guy. I've been there, kit, I've been there! Oh gosh, I just remember the day my mom discovered I had a bunny underwear catalog hidden in my room.  _That_ was an awkward conversation at dinner, hoo boy. Thankfully, my parents got over their little deviant daughter and her strange lust for bunny does soon enough. I'm grateful for my parents; they're so understanding.  
  
    They were even okay that I just wanted a "boring" job like this that really won't go anywhere or achieve anything "great". I still like it, and I've over time learned to take pride in it. All these mammals have their own stories, like the ones they peruse here at the store. It's nice to be a small part of helping them find other stories to enjoy? I dunno, maybe I'm just a little sap.  
  
    At lunch break, I relax in the break room, checking my phone. Ooh, Sammy sent me a text.  
  
    [Thinking of my kit fox.]  
  
    There's a selfie of her looking dreamy with her cheek in her paw and a sultry smile. Looks like she's in the teacher's lounge. Fertility above, that bunny is gorgeous. Her half-lidded, amber eyes are enchanting, and somehow her creamy fur with white masking always looks so soft and perfect. Her toned muscles are just barely visible in the arm she's resting on with the clothes she has on, and I have to bite my lip. She's  _so_ sexy!  
  
    Deciding to be ridiculous, I take my own selfie. I have my thumb and forefinger framing my chin and I'm sort of staring off upward, like I'm really considering something. I have this twisted, contemplative look on my muzzle. I take the picture and then send it.  
  
    [Thinking of my bunny.]  
  
    Shortly, an "XD" emuji comes back.  
  
    [You silly fox. Everything going okay?]  
  
    [Yup!]  
  
    [See you after work, puppyfox.]  
  
    [Yup!]  
  
    [Thinking about doing something special tonight. Haven't decided yet.]  
  
    [Oh?] My ears move upwards a little.  
  
    [It's a surprise.]  
  
    [Well, what is it?]  
  
    [Terra, we've had this conversation before. You know what a "surprise" means.]  
  
    I grimace. She's no fun!  
  
    [See you later then, lovely bunny!]  
  
    The rest of my workday passes without incident. As I'm driving to Tiny Tails, I'm thinking about what sort of "surprise" Sammy could have in store for me. To tell the truth, Sammy really isn't that great on the surprise angle. I mean, the first major surprise she planned for me was her showing me the scars on her back. Not that it wasn't an important, meaningful moment, it's just... not my idea of a pleasant surprise.  
  
    Whatever. I'm sure she's thought up something really nice. I pull into the vehicle loop and Samantha's already waiting there. She smiles as she sees my car approach.  
  
    "Hiya!" I smile as she gets in the car and closes the door. I lean over for a kiss.  
  
    "Ah ah ah," Sam pushes me away. "Were you a good girl today?"  
  
    "Of course I was," I nod.  
  
    "Hmm... can you prove it?" Sam gives me this look with her head tilted to the side a bit and a playful smile.  
  
    "Uh... no?" my eyebrows turn up. Sam doesn't respond immediately; like she's thinking about something.  
  
    "Okay then," she says warmly. "I trust you."  
  
    Those words hit me like a lightning bolt. I feel my fur tingle. More than even "I love you", those three words mean so much to me. They mean so much for  _her_ to say to a vixen. I'm pretty sure my pupils are little pinpricks and my mouth is hanging slightly open. Her coy smile starts getting warmer; she knows the meaning in what she said.  
  
    Suddenly, I unbuckle and launch myself from my seat into Sammy's lap, kissing her passionately. I can't help myself; I need her so badly. She holds me firmly during the intense kiss. I push deeper into the kiss; I love my bunny with all of my soul. Part of me wants to just ravish her right here and fill her to the tippy top with pleasure until she spills over. The other part of me suddenly breaks me from the kiss, realizing that we're in the vehicle loop of an elementary school.  
  
    Sammy looks pleased, anyway. She pets my face and looks over me with affection. Then, she gets up from her seat and gets into the driver's seat.  
  
    "I'm going to drive," she says.  
  
    "Okay," I say, a little flustered. I get my foxy butt facing the right way and sit down.  
  
    "So, uh..." I say after a few minutes of silence. "About that surprise. Is it still on for today?"  
  
    Sammy's eyes look at the clock briefly. "Yeah, I think we can do it."  
  
    "Is it like- are we going to the gym so I can watch you work out?" I ask hopefully. The mere thought almost makes me salivate. I- uh- I kind of  _really_ love watching her exert herself and how it makes her look and how it makes her start to pant and how it changes her smell and-  
  
    "No, that wouldn't be much of a surprise; we do go to the gym together occasionally," Sammy laughs and shakes her head. I frown a little as we miss a lot of our usual turns. Eventually we pull up to the... train station? Sam gets a parking slip and parks.  
  
    "Why are we at the train station?" I ask, slightly worried.  
  
    "We're getting on a train," Sam replies, opening the passenger door and coaxing me out. I'm following, but I'm kind of cautious.  
  
    "Wh-where are we _going_?" I pursue.  
  
    "Zootopia."  
  
    " _Zootopia_?" I blurt out. "Why are we going to _Zootopia_? I just- what!?"  
  
    "The train should be here in just about five minutes," Sam ignores me and looks at her phone.  
  
    "Sammy!" I wave my hands. "It's like late afternoon! What, are we going there to spend the night there?"  
  
    "No, I think we should be able to make it back," Sam shrugs.  
  
    "But it'll be like..." I try to do some math in my head, "the small hours of the morning before we get back!" I protest.  
  
    "Thank goodness its Friday, then," Sam wiggles her eyebrows.  
  
    "Sam, I just- I've never been to Zootopia, and... like... it's like two hundred-something miles away, and..." I'm fumbling for words; I don't really have any love for the big city. I'm kind of freaking out at the idea of going there.  
  
    "Come on Terra, just trust me," Sam says warmly, and the train eventually arrives. The words deflate me a little, and I decide to go ahead with her. I cautiously board it with her and sit next to her; she directs me to a window seat. I can't believe we're doing this. Why are we going to Zootopia!?  
  
    I'm trying to look grumpy that Sam's roped me into this so suddenly, but I probably look pretty anxious, too. I feel both of those things, anyway. I decide to fold my arms to help complete the look, and shoot Sam a glance. I scoff as she's giving me a very fond expression.  
  
    "You think I look cute, don't you?" I mutter.  
  
    "Only always," Sam smiles. She's really hard to be mad at, but I'm trying. It's a long train ride, and an elk female asks us if we'd like snacks. I make a point to order some dried cricket snacks, the kind seasoned with honey, while Sam just gets some peanuts. When I get my snack, I crunch on them vigorously, briefly darting my eyes to Sam to see if it's bothering her, but she just looks amused. Darn it!  
  
    After I finish my snack, I'm rubbing my paws on my pants, feeling more and more nervous about what we could be doing in Zootopia.  
  
    "So... what exactly do you have planned?" I ask, my voice almost wavering.  
  
    Sam seems to finally take pity on me, given her expression, and she turns her head to me. "We're going to a club."  
  
    "A club!?" I squeak out, and get some passengers to turn and look at me. I cringe, lowering my voice. "A kh-club? You know I'm not a party girl...!"  
  
    "I think you'll like this club," Sam says, her smile soft but firm.  
  
    "Oh, you  _think_ so, do you?" I grit my teeth. "We're taking this three hour train ride on a  _hunch_ of yours?"  
  
    "Relax, sweetheart," Sam still sounds very confident, like she's holding all of the cards.  
  
    I sigh. "Ugh, by now, you know what I like, Sam, and you know I  _don't_ like loud places with a lot of mammals closely packed and-" I cut myself off when Zootopia comes into view. It- wow, it looks _amazing_. It shines like a beacon into the night sky; I can see why it got the nickname "The Gleaming City". The skyline is so varied in building style and color palette; it's beautiful. My mouth is hanging open as I've caught myself in mid-rant. Sam playfully moves a finger to my lower muzzle and closes my mouth for me. I forget to frown.  
  
    The train approaches the city, zooming past the metropolis. The buildings are all lit up with rich color and varied light styles, and it's just a marvel to look at. The next stop is a desert area, filled with playful-looking buildings with bright colors that promise a fun nightlife. I see the reflections of colorful lights dancing on waters of an oasis, a giant palm-tree shaped building, and more buildings in dimmer-lit areas. Passing a huge wall, we're suddenly in an even colder-looking area than a nighttime desert; with snow banks and ice floes everywhere. The lighting here is much more subdued, with neon signs advertising establishments, and the snow seems to carry the ethereal prevailing lights into blues and teals. After this is a very dark forest with dim, yellowish lighting. I peer into the darkness curiously and hear the sound of rain. Wait, it wasn't raining, was it?  
  
    The train comes around back into the main city and starts to pull into the station.  
  
    "Wow," I have to say.  
  
    "It's something, huh?" Sam smiles brightly. She's clearly enjoying my sense of discovering something new and with much more emotional freedom than she did the first time she took me to Serendipiday. I decide to try to enjoy myself. However, almost as soon as we exit the station, I find myself walking very, very close to Sam. There's mammals everywhere! Mammals of all different sizes, shapes, and smells. My nose is working overtime to try to make sense of my situation, but everything is coming in a huge blast of a ton of scents; many of which I've never smelled before.  
  
    Sam leads me off to a subway and we get on another train. I kick my feet as I sit down; still wondering where exactly we will end up. It's very dark in the subway tunnel and I'm kind of looking down, trying to keep quiet and calm. Samantha taps on my shoulder and points at the window. The tunnel has given way to an enormous underground section of caves, with dimly-lit buildings everywhere that create their own, smaller "skyline" underground. A lot of them look like pale-colored stalagmites. I shake my head at the awe of it all, but it doesn't look like we'll be stopping there.  
  
    "This place is crazy..." I breathe out. Samantha nods in agreement, her eyebrows perking up. We make our stop... Sahara Square, apparently. The night air is much more chilly here than I'm used to, but it still feels okay. Kit foxes originated in the desert, after all; we're acquainted with both heat and cold. Samantha is not ignorant of my discomfort and keeps a firm grip on my paw as she leads me to the club.  
  
    "Different Tails, huh?" I look at the facade of the building. It doesn't look too special and there's not even a line to get inside. There is, however, an intimidating-looking hippo standing at the entrance. When we approach, he stops us.  
  
    "ID, please," he looks at me. We both start fishing out our driver's licensees, but he shakes his head. "Just the fox." Samantha frowns up at him, but I take it out and show him. "Oh, okay." He looks back at Samantha sternly. "Thought you were tryin' to get an underage gray fox into the place. My mistake."  
  
    "Yeah, uh, it's a common mistake, confusing gray and kit foxes" I say nervously. I don't want this to escalate into an argument; I'm already freaked out enough. Samantha defuses, and the hippo looks suddenly friendlier.  
  
    "Well, c'mon inside," the hippo gets the door for us.  
  
    It's actually not too packed in the club, but the music is kinda loud, so my ears go back a little. My head and eyes dart around as I take in the scenery; my nose still can't make heads or tails of it all. There's a lot of different mammals here and... I finally notice what this is about. Nearly all of the mammals together are in couples of different species. This is an inter-species club. I'm sort of trapped between feeling both panicky and a sense of belonging.  
  
    Wait, is that a female lion with a male _mouse_? How does that even- I mean...!? Samantha sees me staring and chuckles. I shake my head out of the thoughts.  
  
    Whoa, the DJ is an arctic hare! She's got these fur-dye splotches of various colors all over her, and she looks so puffy and cute!  
  
    Okay Terra, get a hold of yourself. You're a taken fox. Sam is leading me to the bar, where I see-  
  
    Oh, duh.  
  
    It's Nick and Judy Wilde! My face lights up a bit at seeing the gray, white-masked bunny and the smug, easy-looking red fox. I actually don't know these two that well, but they are pretty famous in Zootopia, both as the first cops of their kinds, and saviors of the city. Also, they're married, so that's kinda neat.  
  
    "Sam! You made it!" Judy hops off the stool and into her older sisters arms, where she gets a big hug from Samantha. "About time!"  
  
    "Heh, I've been meaning to come sooner, I just never found the time," Samantha shrugs. Nick waves.  
  
    "I see you brought the kit fox kit along, good, good," Nick smiles at me. I make a wry face. I am a good bit younger than Sammy, but... "Good to see you again, Terra."  
  
    I nod. "Hi Nick, hi Judy! Sammy talks about you two a lot." I "oof" a little as Judy gives me an enthusiastic hug next.  
  
    "Sammy, huh?" Nick grins at Samantha.  
  
    "No," Samantha points at him sternly. "That's only for Terra." Nick silently holds his hands near his face and blinks lazily.  
  
    "Look at you!" Judy marvels at me. "I love your clothes!"  
  
    "Oh, thank you," I smile bashfully. Then, I notice Judy's neck and try not to make my eyes go wide.  
  
    She's wearing a collar! I blink twice. It's black with silver curved lines running around it and has this cute jeweled carrot charm.  
  
    A collar... wow. Usually only engaged canids wear one, in public anyway. If she's  _still_ wearing one, she must be  _really_ proud to be married to a canid. That, and it looks pretty sexy on her. I briefly start to wonder what Sammy would look like only wearing a collar-  
  
    "She seems dazed," Nick half-lids his eyes and smirks at me. "Probably from being in the presence of Zootopia's most famous bunny."  
  
    Judy nods with her eyes closed and a knowing smirk. "Don't worry. Happens all the time. You'll get used to it." She pats my shoulders twice and lets me go. I chuckle a bit and Sam rolls her eyes. Judy's smug smile melts and she suddenly seems very, very genuine. "I'm so glad you and my sister are working out together..."  
  
    "Well I mean,  _she's_ the one that works out," I grin with embarrassment as I nod to my love. That gets all three of them to laugh.  
  
    "I'm serious, though," Judy smiles tenderly. "She talks about you like you're the light of her life. I'm so happy for you two." The way she says it... she must know about what Sammy has been through. Even Nick's expression softens a little. I nod firmly.  
  
    Nick's face morphs back to looking snarky and he gestures his glass toward me. "From one fox to another, you do our genus a great service by having a bunny girlfriend. They're a pawful, so it just speaks to our immense patience as foxes." Sam folds her arms and glares at Nick, who just smiles. Judy rolls her eyes with a wry grin and smacks him gently on the arm with the back of her paw. Nick's grin becomes toothy and he sips some drink.  
  
    "I feel like dancing, you two want to dance?" Judy hops up excitedly. Sam looks at me, and I feel a jolt of panic.  
  
    "Hold on, honey bunny, they haven't even gotten their first drinks yet!" Nick shakes his head.  
  
    "Dancing...?" I wince. "I can't... I can't dance!" I look worriedly at Sam. She tilts her head and gives me an encouraging, almost pleading look.  
  
    "Neither can Nick; that's never stopped  _him_ before," Judy folds her arms tightly as she raises an eyebrow.  
  
    "S'true," Nick smiles blithely again and sips from more of his drink.  
  
    "I just... I can't dance... not in front of people..." I wring my paws together. Nick hops out of his seat finally and places a paw on my shoulder.  
  
    "Terra, here's some advice," Nick begins. "While I was growing up in high school, I knew this pig. Kind of an average pig build, you know? Not 'svelte' by any means. But,  _boy_ could that guy dance. He had such a presence and was so energetic. He started off kind of like a laughingstock to the other mammals, but by the end of the high school year? Every time he was at a dance people would make way for him and cheer him on."  
  
    "He just... he didn't care what other people thought?" I wondered.  
  
    "That's what I thought too," Nick said, nodding. He squeezes my shoulder softly. "But I was curious as to his secret, so one day I asked him. I asked him: 'Gunter, how do you do it? How are you so comfortable with just letting loose?' and I'll never forget what he said to me. Know what he said?"  
  
    My eyes are wide as I shake my head, but deep down I'm half-expecting some sort of joke.  
  
    Nick's voice takes on an unfamiliar accent. "You have to let the music take control of your body parts!"  
  
    My face becomes puzzled, and Judy giggles into her paw. I look at Sam, and even she looks a bit confused. Nick pats my shoulder that he's been holding.  
  
    "Anyway, the moral of the story is... just don't think about it too much," Nick shakes his head. "Just do what the music moves you to do, and have fun."  
  
    "Dance time is now," Judy says firmly, grabbing Nick's paw and dragging him off. I climb onto one of the seats and Samantha sits next to me.  
  
    "You want a drink?" Samantha asks.  
  
    "It might help relax me a little," I admit. Samantha rubs my back.  
  
    "You're doing great, hon," she says, looking around. "Everyone here has something in common: they love another species. We all can find some safe fun here, without judgement."  
  
    "That is... kinda nice, yeah," I nod. I see a small feline rush over to us. Oh, it's a margay! I have never actually seen one in the fur. They're really a pretty small cat; it looks like she's standing on a little shelf to be able to serve the bar.  
  
    "Hello! Ooh, a couple of new faces!" the margay says. "My name is Donna."  
  
    "I'm Samantha," she greets. "This is my mate, Terra."  
  
    "Adorable couple, if you don't mind me saying!" Donna smiles brightly. I shake my head and Sam grins. She points at me. "Kit fox, right? Haven't seen one of you here yet!" I nod and grin. "Since I haven't seen either of you two around here before, your first drink's on me!" Oh, score! A second free beverage today?  
  
    "Hm, a Bahama mammal, please," Samantha says after looking at the options.  
  
    "Pff, really?" I smirk at the special. "A 'margay-rita'?"  
  
    "Hey, it's really good," Donna looks at me sidelong and shakes her index finger once, leaving it pointing at me.  
  
    "I'll try it," I nod. Donna smiles and comes back with the drinks, which are in tiny shot glasses, even by the standards of mammals our size. I laugh a little. "Oh, I should have guessed."  
  
    "Free's free," Samantha reaches out for her drink, but Donna pulls both shot glasses away.  
  
    "I'm just kidding!" Donna dumps the drinks into more usual-sized glasses and fills them up the rest of the way, passing them down. "Enjoy, you two!"  
  
    I smile as I have the first sip of my drink. It's yummy. I'm starting to actually have fun, I think. I smile at Sammy.  
  
    "Can I get you to dance with me tonight, sugar?" Sammy strokes my cheek tenderly with the back of her paw.  
  
    I sigh, sipping my drink some more. "Maybe after this is gone."  
  
    "Atta girl," Sammy grins. I'm not really one to drink very often, but the cold drink nevertheless is starting to warm me up inside and relax me. I'd probably feel like sleeping at the moment if it wasn't for all the loud music and lighting around me keeping me up and on edge.  
  
    During the break of one of the songs, I hear the arctic hare DJ pipe up.  
  
    "Ah _ha_!" she barks out, pointing down at the dancing crowd. "There you two are! Nick and Judy are here! All right everyone, you know what that means!" I flinch as I hear basically the whole club start to groan besides Samantha and me. "Try Everything!"  
  
    "Oh jeez," Samantha rolls her eyes, finishing the last of her drink.  
  
    "Ooh, I love this song!" I say perkily, leaping out and rushing to the dance floor. Samantha lets out an impressed scoff and follows me.  
  
    I decide to "try" what Nick suggested to me. I just kinda let the music take control, whatever that means, and pretty soon I'm bouncing and moving around chaotically. I probably look like a huge dork. As the song goes on though, Samantha is beaming at me while she's doing a more subdued, controlled dance, and I have to laugh happily at this. She probably thinks I look cute. You know, like always.  
  
    Eventually it gets to be something like two in the morning and I'm yawning a lot.  
  
    "I think we'd better go; we still have a three-hour ride back home," Samantha says to Nick and Judy. A lot of the collective energy has drained out of the club as several people have left.  
  
    "You wanna crash at our place?" Judy offers, gesturing. "We don't really use the second bedroom in our apartment anymore."    
  
    "Um..." Samantha seems to consider this.  
  
    "Upta you," I mumble. I'm getting really tired.  
  
    "Terra kind of has a hard time sleeping in different beds," Sammy explains cautiously. I huff tiredly. It's kinda true, but she doesn't have to say it.  
  
    "Doesn't look like she'll have too much trouble falling asleep to me," Nick smirks. How are these other three still so awake, anyway? I mean, bunnies and their energy, but even Nick? His constant smugness must keep him on a low boil all day to conserve his strength.  
  
    "Hadda long day," I nod.  
  
    "I guess we can try your place," Samantha says, holding her arm around me to support me.  
  
    My next memories are kind of fuzzy as we're led from the club to Nick and Judy's apartment. Besides focusing most of my efforts on just walking, I'm also trying to think about my relationship with Sammy.  
  
    We've talked about marriage a few times, but neither of us really know if it's what we want. There's a lot of traditions in there that, lapine or canid, just wouldn't work for us. Bunny chasing is a big one. I wouldn't want to trigger Samantha's bad memories. Maybe she could chase me? That might be fun. And there's the whole collar thing, too. I couldn't actually ask her to wear a collar, not with what a vixen has done to her. Maybe I'd look cute in one? Of course Samantha would probably think so. As it is, I'm lucky enough she wears the willow-bead wristband I made for her every day without fail, like it  _was_ a marriage band or something.  
  
    My consciousness is ebbing, and I only barely realize that we're in Nick and Judy's guest room now, and Samantha is unclothing me. I grin tiredly at getting to see her in all her fuzzy glory. She smooches me chastely and coaxes me into bed with her. It's a cozy size, but comfy for us both.  
  
    I try to say something like "thank you for taking me to Zootopia" but it comes out as mumbly mush. She kisses me on the forehead; I think she got the sentiment anyway.  
  
    The anxiety of being in a different bed and a different place is being held at bay by my fatigue, the splash of alcohol I've had, and the coziness of my mate against me. It's been such a long day.  
  
    I let out a very long, content sigh. Samantha is so amazing. She's so fun, and smart, and strong, and brave. And she's... she's my mate... and... she's so pretty... and hot... and... and...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For some further reading in the adventures of Terra, the "Different Tails" chapters "Marshmallow" and "Den" heavily involve her.


	5. Cocoa Binkle

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains elements that could make some uncomfortable. Please read with discretion.
> 
> Cocoa's story is not dependent on any of my other outside works besides a previous chapter of this collection.

    I sit up in my bed and yawn after making sure my clock's alarm is off. The sun has yet to rise, and I'm a bit early to get up. Ah well, that will just make my morning bunny routine go at a nice, leisurely pace.  
  
    Getting out of bed, I take off my clothes and head into the shower. Thanks to my "ear condition", it's easy to avoid getting water in my ears; I wash them thoroughly. After my shower, I look at myself in the mirror while using a fur dryer on my drenched fur. I have dark brown fur with smatterings of brown throughout and cream, almost white pawtips. My eyes are dark brown and might as well be black.  
  
    Sometimes I think my mother named me "Cocoa" because that's the first thing she thought of when she saw me, but she insists that's not the case.  
  
    I skeptically look at my teeth in the mirror after I'm relatively dry. I don't think anyone is going to notice, but they're looking a tiny bit long. I should probably find more time to chew on my wood dowel. I don't want to do that at work and I keep forgetting when I get home. Speaking of work, the manager doesn't really care what we wear there, as long as its _something_. I slip on blue jeans and a stony gray shirt with the letters WBRW in fluorescent orange and a jaunty font.  
  
    Looking at the clock, I've still got some time, so I fix myself a decent breakfast. Hash browns with a little cheese on top and a side of fresh mixed fruit should keep me going for quite awhile. Got some pineapple in the mix today; that's my favorite.  
  
    I get in my small, slightly sporty gray car and head out onto the streets of Bunnyburrow. It's so peaceful in the morning; it's really my favorite time. People call Bunnyburrow a quiet little place to live, but there's nothing like the early morning. I find sunrises more beautiful than sunsets; the gentle, inviting colors of the sky are really gorgeous as they hang above the vast fields and meadows of the countryside. The hush in the morning coats the land like a warm blanket, only slightly disturbed by the sound of other vehicles rushing past my own.  
  
    The peace and quiet is so refreshing that I don't even turn the radio on. I mean, I'm going to be listening to it all day anyway.  
  
    I'm the producer of the WBRW morning show, Rad-E-O. That sounds fancy and important, but it's really not. It just means I do all the technical stuff. I work the sound board, screen the calls, play the songs, and basically just get to listen to the show.  
  
    Believe it or not, it's actually kind of what I wanted to do. I love artsy things, and in high school I was a drama kit. I have no acting talent or timing for humor, but I did like being the audio/visual girl, working on the equipment behind the scenes; being the little "guardian angel" of the school plays. So I guess even though I was a drama bunny I wasn't really a "drama" bunny.  
  
    Not that there wasn't plenty of "drama" during my high school years. I prefer not to dwell on that anymore. At least some of it was frivolous, like the thing about my ears. They don't perk at all. I think it's some sort of genetic trait? I didn't even know there was anything "wrong" with them until other bunnies kits in grade school told me to try to perk my ears up and I couldn't do it at all. I swear, just the littlest bit of difference is enough for some mammals to start ridiculing you. Personally, I don't have a problem with my ears, though some mammals think it makes me look always worried or disinterested. I'm not a violent mammal, but I do want to slap the next person who tells me I have "earectile dysfunction".  
  
     Anyway, after those troubled high school years, my parents strongly protested when I moved away from their compound to an apartment complex in the heart of Bunnyburrow. They were concerned for me and worried about me being lonely, not for no reason. While I do live alone, solitude is peaceful and calming to me. I mean, I'm still here, so I must be doing something right.  
  
    Space is at a premium in the heart of Bunnyburrow of course, so the bottom few floors of the apartment complexes are actually businesses. It's a bit different than living out on a big compound on the farm where you might have to drive twenty minutes to get to the grocery store. I do like a nice long drive, but the convenience in my living condition is pretty good, too.  
  
    I get to work before long. Besides the big radio antenna and the perfunctory signage, the building off in the middle of nowhere is quite unassuming. It's unassuming inside, too, but it is, indeed, a radio station.  
  
    No matter how early I am, my manager seems to be there first; she's also the co-host of the morning show. She's a fairly tall white alpaca named Margaret Packard. She's always dressed sharp; she likes wearing a blouse, skirt, and jacket. I suppose she thinks she has to look professional if the rest of us aren't going to.  
  
    "Good morning, Ms. Binkle," she greets politely. Her voice has a bit of husk to it that gives it an interesting flavor to hear over the airways.  
  
    "Good morning, Mrs. Packard," I reply. She nods to me and continues to get things set up for the morning. I check the sound board to make sure everything's where I want it and that no one on the later shift has messed with it.  
  
    After a few more minutes, the star of our show arrives. His name is Bradley Hopps; he's a little yellow-cream bunny with dark brown ears and muzzle. He's got jeans, a shirt, and a flannel shirt over that, and his baseball cap reads WBRW Rad-E-O in the same style as my shirt. He greets us all with an enthusiastic wave.  
  
    "Morning Marge, morning Cocoa," he says. I'm glad  _I'm_ at least on a first-name basis with Bradley.  
  
    "Hi, Bradley," I smile.  
  
    To tell the truth, at first I didn't know what to make of Bradley. I had no clue why Margaret brought in this guy; for the first several weeks he was definitely nothing special. It took awhile for him to get situated and comfortable with his role, but then I finally started to realize what she saw in him. She's basically his foil: she's all dry and sarcastic with her humor, and Bradley's more genuinely funny and passionate. He does have a great, rich voice, with just a hint of boyishness to add a dash of "casual" flavor. He definitely doesn't have a radio _face_ , though. He's a good-looking buck, if a bit short in stature.  
  
    ...I might have a  _tiny_ bit of a crush on him. Just a little.  
  
    I think Margaret realized she couldn't carry the show on her own; her style of humor is more contemporary and "city", but the mammals who still listen to radio want something from an honest sense of humor like Bradley's. He and Margaret settle in to start the show.  
  
    After Bradley grabbed the reins of the show as the main host, he tried to call it "Rad-E-O with 'Rad Hopps' and 'Marge the Sarge'", but she shot that down pretty quickly. It's just "Rad-E-O".  
  
    The morning show is progressing smoothly, like normal.  
  
    "Let's cut to Jim; he'll tell us what's happening on those country roads this morning. Jim?" Bradley speaks out cheerfully. I'm scribbling a little in a sketchbook I often bring to work during downtime. After I switch it to the weather and traffic report, I start drawing again. Had I more discipline or creativity, I think I'd like to be a cartoonist; at least a webcomic artist if I could get someone to do the script. As it is now, I like to sketch little segments from the show, when Marge gets a good crack in or Bradley says something particularly funny. There's always fresh material on the show.  
  
    "So, did you hear our very own Max Thrasher is coming back to Bunnyburrow this week?" Margaret looks through her notes at one of the news items she wanted to bring up. "He won that annual skateboarding competition in Zootopia and is coming back to hang out with his fans in his place of origin."  
  
    "Oh, ol' Maximilian?" Bradley says with half-lidded eyes, tossing his head a bit with a smirk. "That rabbit's a pretty nice guy."  
  
    "Stop it; you don't know him," Margaret shoots back with an accusing glare.  
  
    "I swear!" Bradley has a huge, honest grin. "He and I used to go skateboarding at the skate park not too far from here."  
  
    "No way," Margaret shakes her head. "Else you'd be in some of his videos."  
  
    "Oh, I am, I am!" Bradley insists, chuckling. "One or two!"  
  
    "Of about what, a hundred or more?" Margaret says wryly, folding her arms.  
  
    "I can tell you  _exactly_ which ones they are,  _and_ what timestamps to find me in," Bradley says with a big hint of pride.  
  
    "What, individual seconds?" Margaret scoffs.  
  
    As they're bantering, we get a call and I answer it.  
  
    "You've got WBRW," I say.  
  
    "Ah, this is the right number then," says an energetic voice. I'm not really a fan of the guy, but I'm pretty sure this is actually Max Thrasher on the line and I blink in mild surprise. "Hey, can I talk to Brad?"  
  
    "One moment," I put him on hold. I wave for their attention, put on a large grin and point to my ear.  
  
    "I think we might have a special guest on the line!" Bradley says warmly, fighting another laugh. Margaret's jaw drops a bit as I nod. I put the call through.  
  
    "Hey, don't listen to a word this guy says!" Max says in a joking voice over the line. "Never heard of him before in my life!"  
  
    "Hi Max," Brad laughs. "So you're not actually a nice guy, then?"  
  
    "No way, dude, c'mon! You'll ruin my image," Max says conspiratorially, to a laugh from Margaret.  
  
    "So when do I get to hang out with my ol' pal, huh?" Bradley continues. "See the whole gang down at the skate park?"  
  
    "Well, I can bring Bones around, but I'm not with Frieda anymore, my guy," Max says, his voice falling a bit.  
  
    "Oh no?" Bradley sounds confused.  
  
    "Yeah, consider this a WBRW exclusive first look at our 'legendary' breakup," Max says in a surprisingly self-aware, jovial voice. "It was actually kind of funny. I think we were going through a bit of a strain since I was on tour and she couldn't make it all the way, so I took a nasty spill one day and broke my ankle and she's like 'speaking of breaks, I think we should break up'." My eyes widen and Margaret starts to laugh.  
  
    " _That's funny_?" Bradley's eyes go wide.  
  
    "Yeah dude, I don't think it was working out," Max continues easily. "It's all right. Two breaks in one day! Hey, I got a gig to go to in just under an hour, so catch you later, okay Brad? I'll be in touch."  
  
    "Sure thing, Max, have a Rad day," Bradley says in his "show" voice. That's both his and Margaret's standard goodbye.  
  
    "You too!" Max says, hanging up.  
  
    "Well color  _my_ wool surprised," Margaret says with a dry, impressed voice. "You actually  _weren't_ talking out of your tail end!"  
  
    "Told ya!" Brad returns.  
  
    "Hmm, there's a topic, amusing break ups," Margaret says, scribbling on her notes. "I'm sure you've had a few."  
  
    "Oh, do you think so?" Brad challenges with a chuckle.  
  
    "Sure, you must have been a little heart breaker in your youth, huh 'Rad'?" Margaret smirks.  
  
    "As much as I'd like to say I was..." Bradley rolls his eyes.  
  
    "Well, let's put it out to our listeners then," Margaret says. "I know I had a funny break up once. I was dating this guy Jed for awhile. He was a nice sheep, a bit simple though. One day he wanted to just earnestly tell me how nice I looked 'even for such a strangely tall sheep'."  
  
    "Oh no..." Bradley says, covering his eyes with his paw.  
  
    "Oh yes," Margaret continues with a devilish grin. "I had to  _very slowly_ explain to him what an 'alpaca' was. He swore up and down he didn't know and that he was sorry but he could only date a sheep ewe, and that was that."  
  
    "Ugh, that's awful," Bradley chuckles. "Stay in books and read your school, kits. Else mammals might get the idea that Bunnyburrow is unedumacated."  
  
    I try not to laugh as I take some calls. Some are laced with anger from sour breakups and I disconnect those, but I let a few interesting sounding ones through.  
  
    "We've got Gabe on the line," Margaret says after I patch a funny one through. "Gabe? You're on the air."  
  
    "Yeah uh, hi," his voice comes over the phone. "I had a girlfriend who was into some... uh... pretty weird stuff."  
  
    "This is a family show, Gabe. Keep it PG," Margaret warns dryly.  
  
    "Oh no, she just uh, she tied me to a ceiling fan once, and-" the guy starts.  
  
    "Wait, _Gabe_?" Bradley bursts out. "Gabe, c'mon! Don't you know whose  _show_ this is?"  
  
    "Huh?"  
  
    "This is _Brad_ , Gabe, Brad _Hopps_?" Bradley laughs. "Still shaken up over Ms. Ceiling Fan, huh?"  
  
    "Oh crap!" Gabe bursts out, and hangs up abruptly. All three of us in the studio break down laughing.  
  
    "Speaking of _family_... one of the mighty Hopps army, huh?" Margaret chuckles after several seconds of laughter.  
  
    "We'll take over the world  _one_ day," Bradley jokes airily.  
  
    With a smile, I take the next caller. Instantly, a nameless fear grips my heart. I can hear the sound of feminine crying over the other line.  
  
    "Hello? This is WBRW," I say cautiously.  
  
    "Kh-can I talk to Brad...?" she whimpers. I look worriedly into the booth and point at my ear, indicating we have an unusual caller. Margaret and Bradley both read me quickly.  
  
    "Ah, we'll be right back, folks," Margaret says, and signals me to get a song playing. I do, then impulsively patch the call through.  
  
    "Hello? Brad here," Bradley says carefully.  
  
    "Hh-hi, Brad?" the voice fights through her sobs. "You- ngh... you don't know me, but I just- just wanted to thank you."  
  
    "For what?" he replies.  
  
    "I've jh-just been through ff-four messy break ups this year and... ngh..." more sobbing. "I don't think I can go on anymore... I'm so unlovable and worthless..." Margaret freezes, her pupils pinpricks, and Bradley looks shocked. "I just... wanted to thank you for brightening up my mornings a little bit..." A spike of terror drives into my stomach. There's a certain finality to her voice that I think we can all hear.  
  
    "Um, please don't go!" Bradley says quickly. "Who- who have I got here?"  
  
    "I'm Annie..." she says, hiccuping.  
  
    "Annie, please try to hang on, okay? Stay on the line with me," Bradley says desperately, his eyes darting this way and that. "Hh-how many siblings do you have, Annie?"  
  
    "Sixteen..."  
  
    "Sixteen... so wouldn't they miss you if you were gone?" Bradley winces as he says this; I'm sure he's wondering if he's said something wrong as she continues to sob. I break out of my stupor and fix my mouth into a grim frown, scribbling in my notebook.  
  
    "I... I don't know," Annie's distraught voice finally comes back. Margaret's teeth show in a worried look.  
  
    "I think they would," Bradley said, rubbing a paw into his forehead. "And I think they would wonder if they could do anything to help you, don't you?"  
  
    "Ngh..." the noncommittal response comes back.  
  
    I decisively tear out the sheet I'm writing on and press it against the glass separating the show room from the tech room. Bradley looks to me and his eyes widen, but he nods.  
  
    "Annie, I'm going to read you a number and I want you to call it, okay?" Bradley says. "Will you do that for me?"  
  
    "Uhm... okay..." her voice replies. Bradley very carefully reads out the number I'm holding against the glass, then repeats it. It's the Suicide Prevention Hotline, which I've indicated on the sheet.  
  
    "Please call it for me, okay?" Bradley says again. "Someone will be able to help you."  
  
    "Hh..." a trembling sigh comes across the line. "Okay."  
  
    "You have yourself a-" Bradley starts, but I don't think he knows how to continue. "Just... have a good day, okay?"  
  
    "...Okay, Brad," Annie says quietly, then hangs up. The two in the studio visibly deflate.  
  
    "Ss-sorry I froze up, Bradley," Margaret shakes her head, rubbing her temples. "Sounded like she wanted to talk to you. All my years I've never had a caller like _that_." She looks to me. "Cocoa, play another song, would you?" I nod, jarred a bit by the use of my first name, but I comply. I think everyone's feeling a little unsteady. Bradley takes off his baseball hat and fans himself with it.  
  
    "I just... I dunno, was that okay?" Bradley says, looking exhausted. "Will she be okay?"  
  
    "No way to know," Margaret shrugs. "I think you did what you could, given the circumstances. You were on the spot and you weren't aware of her until that moment."  
  
    "Cheese us," Bradley hangs his head, wringing his hands.  
  
    "Will you be okay, or should we call the second shift in early?" Margaret does actually sound concerned.  
  
    "Yeah, I'm good, just... yeah, we should be good to go at the end of this next song," Bradley says, seemingly gathering his nerve. "Let's just move to another topic, okay?"  
  
    "Agreed," Margaret nods. Bradley gives me a look between confusion and thankfulness. I give him a small smile and wave. I think he did fine.  
  
    The rest of the day is a bit on edge and both Margaret and Bradley have a strained sense of humor, but they slowly recover and are back to their usual selves before too much longer. After we sign off and switch it over to the second shift, I get another surprise when Bradley comes up to me.  
  
    "Hey, uh..." he looks a little distracted. "You want to get a bite to eat or something?"  
  
    My inner voice is screaming "YES!" at me, but she's kind of a desperate little psycho. I very slowly nod.  
  
    "Sure, that sounds fine," I manage to say very calmly.  
  
    He and I meet at a Cheesy n' Nuts not too far away. I wasn't expecting anything fancy, of course. We park nearly simultaneously and Bradley rushes to get the door for me.  
  
    "Thanks," Bradley says when he opens the door. He seems to realize that he should have waited for me to say thank you first and grins sheepishly, shaking his head quickly. "I mean, uh, for earlier."  
  
    "The distraught caller?" I ask, as if I don't know.  
  
    "Yeah, Annie. Annie was her name-  _is_ her name," Bradley still seems a bit shaken and I look at him sympathetically. We get in line to order. "You were really quick with that number and I just- I didn't know what to do." The way he says it, I almost think it's a bit leading. Why  _was_ I so quick on that number? he might as well have asked. Bradley's pretty empathetic and perceptive when he wants to be, but I don't really feel like digging deep into my personal abyss today, not at some random fast food joint with a shaken up bunny. Okay, two shaken up bunnies, with one that can hide it a little better.  
  
    "You're welcome," I reply simply. Bradley is a polite bunny and doesn't press the issue further. I get up to order. "I'll have a walnut salad with an iced tea, please."  
  
    "Let me get that, Cocoa," Bradley charges up with a card out. "It's the very least I can do." I don't argue. He gets an almond with cheese and a cola and sits down with me.  
  
    "You sure you're okay?" I ask him.  
  
    "I just- whew..." Bradley's left his hat in the car and runs his hand through his ears. They've been drooped since we got into the place. "When I took this job, I never really thought I was doing anything important."  
  
    "Huh? What do you mean?" I ask, tilting my head.  
  
    "Well, just talking and having a good time for a living, making jokes," Bradley looks bashful, "kind of an easy ride for a job, huh?" I don't say anything, and he swallows. "Didn't think I'd have a chance to do anything important with my _words_. You throw out those words into the ether, and I guess you really don't know who you're affecting or who's listening. I didn't think I'd make a difference, and I don't know if I did..." My eyes widen a little as I see his own start to bubble with the beginnings of tears. His breath becomes shaky and he wipes his eyes.  
  
    "I think you did," I say in a weak voice. I'm not sure what else I'm  _supposed_ to say. Bradley sees concern on my face and attempts a charming grin through his compromised breathing, wiping his eyes again with his sleeve.  
  
    "Well, it's cool for us Hopps guys to cry, so don't you worry about _that_ ," Bradley claims. I smile gently. "...Guess I'll never know for sure, though? About Annie, I mean. I'll never know if what I said to her helped."  
  
    "Or..." I say, trying to compose my thoughts. "Maybe one day when you're at some event signing autographs like we sometimes do... maybe some bunny will come up to you and tell you that at one time, you gripped onto her while she was slipping, you flashed a burst of light while she was fading... maybe she'll tell you that you  _did_ make the difference."  
  
    Bradley looks a little mystified. "I uh, I mean she never said she was a _bunny_..."  
  
    My chest feels tight. I swallow. "...Well she did say she had sixteen siblings. It's a- a fair guess."  
  
    "Oh right, yeah," Bradley nods, recalling. He seems to discard the thought and slouch a little. Sheesh Cocoa, projecting much? "Whew, what a day." A spark of humor comes back into him and his ears finally perk up. "You know what people  _usually_ say when they meet me in the fur for the first time?"  
  
    "What's that?" I ask after a sip of my tea.  
  
    "'I was expecting someone taller'," Bradley rolls his eyes. I bite my lip, trying not to laugh.  
  
    "To be fair- uh... I mean...," I'm not sure how to phrase this.  
  
    "Yeah, I know, I'm _short_ ," Bradley scoffs. "You're half a head taller than me." I shrug.  
  
    When we finish up, he pauses at the doorway.  
  
    "Do you want to go out again sometime, maybe?" Bradley wonders. I pause. My inner voice is silently wailing at me in desperation. Again, she's a bit pathetic sometimes.  
  
    "I- sure! Maybe. I guess," I smile.  
  
    ...Augh. That was perhaps a little  _too_ noncommittal. Bradley half-smiles with his brow up. He looks confused. I try a bit of a larger smile than normal. Sometimes I wonder if fighting that little inner voice is worth it. Though the things she wants to do with that little bunny buck... yeah, I should probably restrain her, for now.  
  
    "See you at work tomorrow," Bradley says, though there's a slight hint of a question in there. I nod firmly.  
  
    At home, I'm mentally exhausted from the date and the day I've had. I have a kind of mental "social budget", and going on even a sort of "half-date" with Bradley has just about drained it completely. I feel like I will sleep very well this evening. Fixing myself up for sleep, I sit on my bed, finally remembering to pull out and chew on my cherry wood dowel. If I'm going to be smiling more around Bradley, my teeth should look their best.  
  
    Bradley, huh. Oof, what am I going to do?  
  
    Am I going to show him my sketchbook sometime? Kinda corny... maybe he'll think it's cute. Or maybe he'll say I have a childish fantasy and should pay more attention at work. ...That'd probably be Margaret's reaction come to think of it, never mind.  
  
    Am I going to eventually tell him about my problems? The things I've been through? My reasons for being so... I dunno, withdrawn? I feel like if I told any prospective buck, they might run away screaming. Would Bradley? He's really empathetic, but...  
  
    I'm not sure. Am I worth the trouble?  
  
    I put the dowel down and snuggle into bed. For the first time in quite some time, I actually feel a little lonely. I yawn, and my breath comes out as a long, drawn out sigh.  
  
    I'll ask him on a date tomorrow. I _will_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A special thanks to DeadDireWolf for planting the idea in my head about Bradley getting a job as a radio personality.


	6. Tabitha Moosier

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Viewer discretion is advised. Some violent crime is referenced and lightly described.
> 
> Tabitha Moosier appears in "Vixen's Mark". This chapter contains spoilers for that work.

    My name is Tabitha Moosier.  
  
    The last name might be familiar to you if you've followed boxing at all. My father is Alexander Moosier; "Moosier the Bruiser" they called him. Technically undefeated. Strongest, most tenacious bull in the ring.  
  
    I wanted to be like him. Throughout my formative years I trained and sculpted myself to be a prime specimen of a cow. My physique began to show beneath my reddish-brown fur, and my hazel eyes were usually described as "intimidating". No one wanted to mess with me in high school, especially because most of my classmates were bunnies or other smaller animals. I wasn't going to be a milk cow, that was for sure.  
  
    When I told my father my conviction, he sat down and said nothing for a long time. He didn't look quite _sad_ , but he looked intense. I've never seen him cry, but the only other time he got that introspective was for a few days after my mother died. I was only nine and I was very broken up, but I won't forget how intense and quiet he was. For several days my father was like that; he said barely anything to me.  
  
    It struck me. Was I "dead" to him? I finally gathered the courage to ask him what was wrong.  
  
    "Don't be like me," he had said simply. "Glory, fame, money. What has it got me? Mild brain damage, that's what." His sudden candor shocked me. "We've got a lot of money. But how am I gonna be able to take care of my little girl?" He paused. "If you can, do something for this world with your strength. But if you really want to be a fighter..."  
  
    He didn't finish his thought. It was the first time I'd heard of his problem, and yet as the years went on it became more apparent. He'd have trouble concentrating, become forgetful. I guess he didn't want that kind of life for his daughter. Ruminating on it, I decided not to pursue his hoofsteps.  
  
    Instead, I joined the Bunnyburrow Sheriff's department. My superiors saw my potential, I suppose, because they fast-tracked me to the Bunnyburrow Special Victims Unit. There, I was immediately given a partner, to my dismay. My partner's a coyote. I thought the little runt would hold me back, but little did I know...  
  
    I was the one that was supposed to hold  _him_ back.  
  
    My morning routine is nothing special. I do what I need to do and drive to work. The first time I got to the office, I was surprised it wasn't cramped for a fairly large country mammal like myself. I dismissed my surprise when I first met my superior. He greets me curtly today; he's a large black bear by the name of Orson Barricade. And whew, a word of advice: don't let him catch you mispronouncing it "bear-icade". He can tell the difference, and he does not like it.  
  
    "Moosier," Captain Barricade says to me. I nod at him. "You and Halhoun are still on the Locke Weston stakeout until I need you elsewhere."  
  
    "Sir," I salute respectfully. Due to the nature of the crimes we investigate, it's natural that our Captain is such an intense individual. There is a hidden gentleness to him, as I've heard there is to me. I suppose it was my strength as well as my perceived "feminine" nature that got me this job so easily. I suppose I can either thank or blame the milk cows for putting forward that idea that all cows are nurturing and motherly.  
  
    "Tabitha," my partner greets me with a small nod. The steel blue-eyed coyote looks intense and focused, as he always does. He's never late and rarely early, but he's always on time. He's reliable to be himself, for the good and bad of all that entails. "We scoping Weston's place again today?" I nod, and his expression seems neutral. "All right. Let's go. I'll drive this time."  
  
    We take Liam's car. It's older, black, completely inconspicuous. A four-door car fit for a small family, though I know he lives alone. I fit comfortably inside with only a little fuss. It's quiet between us on the way to the suburb where this Locke Weston character lives. He's a thirty-something pig who's suspected to be behind the kidnapping of a little piglet girl, barely ten. We haven't got enough to move in on him and we don't want to spook him; his place seems completely normal on the outside. We've gotten an anonymous tip or two about him. Maybe his neighbors just think the guy's weird and suspicious, but we do what we must.  
  
    It's quiet between Liam and I on the trip. Chatter will probably wait until we get bored on the stakeout. I look at Liam, and his focus is laser-fixed on the road. Liam's a good cop, most of the time. He's driven and focused on bringing the perps in, and finding justice for the harmed. But he has skeletons in his closet. Like some in the department, he has a reason for being here; a vendetta against the world that he feels wronged him.  
  
    Prey on prey violence? Liam will subdue the aggressor with quiet fury.  
  
    Pred on pred violence? Liam's not to be trifled with. I've seen him take down anything from a wolf to a cougar with his refined fighting style.  
  
    Prey on pred violence? Rare, but the one case of that we've caught, Liam was uncompromising in his pursuit of that sadistic rabbit.  
  
    But Pred on prey violence, that's what sets him off. Celestials help you if you're a predator that's "preying" on a prey. Liam becomes a beast, near-feral. His inner fire ignites, his mental wounds drive him to the brink of madness. That, I've surmised, is why I'm his partner. I can out-muscle Liam and I've had to swat him away from seriously injuring a few predator perps in the past.  
  
    It's even worse if the victim is a sheep or the aggressor is a wolf. The more boxes are checked on the bingo sheet of his personal tragedies, the more unhinged he becomes. He's brought the justice he couldn't find for himself to others through his rage and passion. So that's my role, his limiter. I can mete out a beating as well as Liam can; better, in many cases, but I lack his injured soul, his drive. Whereas the awful things I've seen have begun to jade me and my expectations over time, Liam consumes those experiences to feed the anger that simmers inside of him. He directs his emotions into his work, and it's both dangerous and awe-inspiring to behold when he's fully actuated.  
  
    I don't entirely dislike being Liam's leash. He's an interesting, tortured coyote. I almost suspect that if he found the time or will to heal, Bunnyburrow would lose the zeal of one of its staunchest defenders. We park some distance down from Locke Weston's suburban home. Liam's eyes are already on the house.  
  
    "It's garbage day in this neighborhood," Liam remarks. "Weston hasn't put out his trash yet. Maybe we'll get lucky."  
  
    "And get to take  _him_ out," I finish. Liam nods. The unassuming-looking, bespectacled pig comes out before long and takes his trash out. Liam narrows his eyes to the point where it looks like he's napping, and I pretend to mess around with my phone. The pig goes back into his house and we both slowly drop our facades. Liam leans forward and checks the trees.  
  
    "Wind's wrong, gotta wait," he says. When it changes, Liam puts his window down, leans his head outside, and furtively sniffs. After several seconds of this, he pulls his head back in and shakes his head. "Just normal garbage. No traces of blood or anything suspect."  
  
    I look over at Liam and scoff. "I dunno whether that sense of smell of yours is a blessing or a curse." Liam doesn't respond. "Is it easier for you, I wonder? As a predator, I mean. To do this 'hunting'." Liam looks at me incredulously as if he's never seen me before.  
  
    "What does _that_ mean?" Liam asks carefully, with a hint of offense.  
  
    "I'm just wondering if the hunting comes more naturally, you know?" I say. "Granted, you have your reasons for being like you are, but I wish I had half of the passion that you have going after other preds." Part of me regrets this as soon as it leaves my muzzle. But my father taught me to make your mistakes and not to apologize for them. Let your conversation or sparring partner fight back with their own conviction.  
  
    Liam curls his lip up and it looks like he might snarl. "Is it really like this between us, Tabitha? You think I'm so vicious just because I'm a _predator_?"  
  
    "No, I know that's not it," I say, looking at him evenly. "I wondered if it was... easier." I sigh slowly.  
  
    "Elaborate," Liam demands.  
  
    "All the things we've seen," I pretend to look at something out of the window. "Seeing how low mammals can stoop for their perversions and such. Predators used to hunt and kill prey; you can't get away from that. I wondered if... you know. If some of the desensitizing was built in."  
  
    Liam calms down slowly and is quiet for a few seconds. "It isn't. Especially not when you torture yourself with your past like I do."  
  
    "You always seem to soldier on," I say. "Each arrest a notch on the staff. What are we up to now? Twenty-one?"  
  
    "That's right," Liam nods. "Twenty-one. Someone has to do our job, Tabitha. Just dumb misfortune that it's fallen to us."  
  
    "Do you ever feel satisfied by any of the arrests?" I wonder.  
  
    "Not really," Liam admits.  
  
    "Even..." I twist my mouth. "You're kind of completing your own Karma Circle, aren't you?"  
  
    Liam looks at me with intense revulsion. "You honestly think I believe in _Karma_? Sure, in a perfect world it'd be nice to believe that there was some mystic arbiter of justice that would punish wrongdoers. But how can that be true when there are rapists and murderers that get away scot-free? Karma's a lie told to children to get them to behave. Oh, the _big bad wolf_ is going to _get you_ if you misbehave, and you'll get presents if you are good!" He shakes his head firmly. " _We_ are Karma, Tabitha." He gestures between himself and me. " _We_ are her arbiters. We're the _actual_ reason evildoers need to fear." He pauses and sighs heavily. "Imperfect though we are."  
  
    "I wanted to be a boxer," I say suddenly after a short lull. I've never told this to Liam.  
  
    My partner looks me over. "I... don't think it would have suited you." He doesn't elaborate, and I don't press the issue. Hours go by, and it doesn't appear like Mr. Weston will be doing anything incriminating today.  
  
    "Do you resent me?" I ask as we're driving back to the station. I know that he knows what I'm "for".  
  
    "No, we're all imperfect," Liam says distantly. "I _need_ someone like you to hold me back. Someone whose head is screwed on straight." I almost smile at the vote of confidence.  
  
    The day ends and I go home, ready for sleep. Strange how a day of doing next to nothing can tire you out. I lay down in my bed with the back of my head to the pillow. I'm just about to fall asleep, and I might actually have done so, but soon enough I hear my phone ring. It's an urgent ringtone; Liam's. I'm used to this sort of interruption, and I grab the phone.  
  
    "Moosier."  
  
    "Tabitha, the vixen did it," Liam's voice is wild, a median between hatred and excitement. Uh oh. "She actually did it! Meredith Pinemeadow! She texted Samantha Hopps!"  
  
    "Lamb sake's!" I spring out of bed and start to get ready. "The Hopps case? That's nearly a year old!"  
  
    "Nine months," Liam corrected. "Can you start driving to Zootopia?"  
  
    " _Zootopia_?" my eyes go wide. "The texts came from there?"  
  
    "It's not a hundred percent confirmed; going to get the cellphone from Hopps," Liam says. I can hear the sound of his car in the background.  
  
    "Fields of green, Liam, I'll be halfway there before you get done what you need to," I rub one of my horns.  
  
    "That's the idea," Liam said gravely. "If I get confirmation, I'll contact the ZPD and get them involved. We've got to get this dog."  
  
    "It's kind of a long shot, Liam," I say. There were a million different things that could happen in that time span. But I do feel the spirit of justice in me, if faintly. "But I don't like getting paid to stare at pigs' houses all day. I'm going."  
  
    "I'll be in touch, Halhoun out," Liam says, hanging up.  
  
    I begin the long drive to Zootopia, breaking the speed limit slightly. I know Liam will probably be destroying it when he follows me here. _If_ he follows me. I'm waiting for a call from him to come in any second, preparing to have to do a u-turn and go back to Bunnyburrow.  
  
    Finally, the call comes. I'm a little over a hundred miles into the journey; just over halfway.  
  
    "We've got the coordinates, and it doesn't appear to be a dump phone," Liam sounds manic. "I'm on my way."  
  
    "No way, is Pinemeadow an _idiot_?" my hoof pushes harder on the accelerator. "Why would she use her regular phone to text a vic?"  
  
    "It's about control," Liam says, his voice thick with a growl. "Predator criminals crave control. Of the situation, of their victims. They love to know they've suppressed them." I can hear the guarded hate in his voice. He huffs angrily and changes his tone to be even. "I've gotten a hold of Chief Bogo. We're meeting the ZPD near Banyon Street."  
  
    "That's in Savanna Central?" I hazard a guess.  
  
    "Yes, in the southwest," Liam clarifies. "See you there, if you haven't already taken care of her before I get there."  
  
    By the tone of his voice, I'm pretty sure he doesn't want us to have done so.  
  
    I park my car near Banyon Street, and already there are police cars hidden in several streets nearby. I make my way over to the Chief, who's busy talking on a radio.  
  
    "And you are...?" he asks skeptically in a deep, rich voice.  
  
    "Tabitha Moosier, Bunnyburrow SVU," I say, flashing my badge. He barely nods. This bluish behemoth of a buffalo makes me look like a calf. I'm pretty sure he'd even give my father a good fight, were he in his prime.  
  
    "We've been comparing notes with Halhoun," Chief Bogo said gravely. "Two unsolved rape cases fit the profile of the Bunnyburrow Hopps case." He looks the slightest bit uncomfortable saying this. "The cellphone's signal comes from inside that unfinished building." He nodded over to an empty lot. There was a building currently under construction, six stories tall. I nod. Chief Bogo unfurls a sheet with a makeshift plan on it and points to the corners. "I will have my officers positioned at each end of the building. If the perp is there, she will not escape."  
  
    "You're leaving going up there to Halhoun and me," I realize.  
  
    "This is your case, is it not?" Chief Bogo asked. "That partner of yours better hurry."  
  
    Liam was there even sooner than I thought he'd be. After assessing the situation, Liam and I begin slowly making our way up the building. Liam leads; his vision is very good in the dark. Near the stairwell to the third floor we begin to hear sobbing. Liam's teeth flash in anger. I know the vixen's probably got someone up here. It remains to be seen in what a state she'll be in.  
  
    "Please don't do this...!" an unfamiliar voice cries, then there's a shriek. Liam and I start to fly up the stairs to the fourth floor. There's a white bunny girl laying there, her clothes in tatters. Meredith Pinemeadow is there, her claws bloodied, a feral look on her face. She sobers up instantly when she sees us and backs away from her victim, if only slightly. Her eyes briefly dart to her cellphone, which appears to be set up on a tripod a few feet away and is recording. I sneer in disgust.  
  
    Now it's Liam's turn to go animal. Liam curves his body forward, his lip curling up. He begins to snarl, a primal sound of fury and loathing. His own claws are curled above his palms, the fur at the back of his neck bristling. The rabbit gasps at this, though Liam's eyes are locked on the fox's.  
  
    "Police! Step away from the rabbit," I say in a commanding voice. I might as well be speaking to both of the canids. The green-eyed rabbit is sobbing in terror and pain. I can't assess the severity of her wounds from here. I draw my tranq gun, but Liam neglects to. The rage is consuming him, and Pinemeadow looks like she's about to bolt. The vixen doesn't appear stupid enough to try to fight an angered coyote, who from his pose appears to tower over her.  
  
    "Tabitha!" Liam manages to shout. I immediately shoot the tranq, but Pinemeadow lurches to the side and it misses. I toss down the gun and lunge forward. The fox yips and turns to run. She's headed for the open air, where the wall would be. Liam throws forward an intimidating, fearsome bark, and Pinemeadow's head instinctively looks back for the source and her movement falters just the slightest bit.  
  
    It's enough. Whether she would have survived the four story drop or not is immaterial. She wasn't getting either freedom. I come up on the fox's side and swing my head sideways like a hammer. She goes flying into one of the building's supports, where she crumples limply. I'm on her in seconds and I begin to cuff her. The vixen struggles, but there's no way she's getting away from me in her injured state. One of my horns has gashed her arm. It's less than she deserves.  
  
    "Meredith Pinemeadow, you are under arrest," is all I can manage to say. I activate my radio. "Perp's cuffed. We're going to need a bus for the perp and one for the vic. Vic is a white rabbit. Female." I turn to look at Liam. He's on his knees and tending to the victim. I see him pull some gauze out and try to stop her bleeding. In nearly an instant, he's become his usual self again.  
  
    "I'm Liam Halhoun, you're safe now," Liam tells her. The rabbit flinches as he applies pressure to her wounds. "I'm sorry. Don't try to move. We're going to get you out of here. What's your name?"  
  
    "Tracy Opal," she says through her sobs, flinching as Liam tries to keep her stable. I can only guess that she'll eventually be okay. Physically, anyway.  
  
    I turn my attention back to Pinemeadow. She's got an almost blank look on her face; the barest hint of a smile. It always strikes me how dissonant or disconnected a lot of the perps look. As if they feel complete absolution from their wrongdoing. I get her up from the ground and keep her steady. I know deep down Liam wanted to be the one to take this vixen down. It must have taken all of his resolve to call me to action instead.  
  
    I spare Liam another glance as he's taking care of the bunny. The medics are starting to arrive. There is genuine concern and tenderness on his face as he continues to ask Tracy questions and keep her engaged, trying to calm her down. Maybe there's hope for him yet. I don't believe that his light has fully faded.  
  
    Before long, he and I are lounging around at the ZPD Headquarters, doing our preliminary paperwork. We'll have to crash at a hotel and come back in the morning.  
  
    "If the vixen had jumped this would have been a lot easier on us and her victims," Liam mutters.  
  
    "I couldn't take the chance of her somehow getting away," I say, folding my arms.  
  
    "No, you're right," Liam shakes his head as if from a spell and sighs, looking at his watch. "Three in the morning. Ugh."  
  
    Chief Bogo happens by. "Get some rest, you two. There's a Howliday Inn a block down."  
  
    "Pinemeadow seems to have gone on a spree," I say as Liam and I head off. "I wonder if our DA will get her extradited back to Bunnyburrow or if she'll stand trial here?"  
  
    Liam shrugs, distracted. "Thanks for holding me back again. I don't know what I'd have done if I got my claws on that dog."  
  
    "I think it was pretty clear what you'd have done," I remark with no hint of humor. "But you held yourself back."  
  
    "Barely," Liam looks down.  
  
    "Sometimes 'barely' is enough," I say. He carefully looks at me and nods slowly, and we head out of the ZPD towards the hotel to get some much needed rest.  
  
    Tomorrow we will continue the process to seek justice for Pinemeadow's victims in earnest.


	7. Ted Placid

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ted comes from "Partners: Revisited", the outcome of which predates this story, so there are spoilers for that work.

    It's good to be home!  
  
    Nothing like the feeling of waking up in your own bed in the cozy dim lighting of the Placid warren. Zootopia was like an alien culture to me. So many mammal species around, all doing their own thing, all trying to be cordial with one another...  
  
    Not that there's anything wrong with that, of course! Just... was a bit of a culture shock for me. I suppose I'm a simple bunny at heart. The name's Theodore Placid; that's what it says on my birth certificate, anyway! Most call me Ted; I like that one. Teddie works too; shoot, I'll respond to just about anything, so long as you're cordial.  
  
    I get up and do my business for the morning so I can be prepared to do business out in Bunnyburrow. Aunt Sandy's made breakfast this morning, I can tell by the heavenly smell of pancakes coming from the kitchen. As I go to get some, I run into one of my brothers, Tommy. Only a hair taller than me, same colors, same basic facial structure; shoot, a lot of the Placids look the same. Most of us have that uniform black coat and about half of us have blue eyes; the other half have brown.  
  
    "Mornin', city slicker!" Tommy jokes with a hearty pat on the back. "How was the 'Gleaming City'?"  
  
    "Oh, it was alright I guess, Tommy," I nod. "Bit hectic."  
  
    "How 'bout the National Agriculture Convention?" Tommy pursues. "You manage to dazzle anyone with your presentation?"  
  
    "Shoot, it was hard to grab their attention," I smile sheepishly. "I gave it my best, but I dunno if anyone even had the decency to  _pretend_ to be interested in my talk about bug-based pest control solutions."  
  
    Tommy closes his eyes haughtily and shrugs his shoulders. "Eh, their loss."  
  
    "I think I made a few preds in the audience _hungry_ , though," I chuckle, and Tommy laughs, sucking his teeth.  
  
    "What's this I heard about you getting with one of the Hopps does out in Zootopia?" Tommy abruptly changes the subject to something that is more along his line of interest. Gossip about females, that is.   
  
    I hold up one of my paws in protest. "It wasn't gonna work out between us, Judy and me." I shake my head. "I had to break it off."  
  
    Tommy laughs again, but it doesn't sound like a friendly one. He pushes my shoulder firmly. "What's this, Teddie? You're a regular heart breaker now?"  
  
    "Wouldn'ta worked between us," I insisted. "She's practically married to Zootopia. Y'know she's a cop. 'To serve n' protect' n' all that."  
  
    Tommy leans in and smacks me on the arm. "Still, would have done us fine to have made you a Hopps one way or another. That farm they have... hoo boy. We'd have had a steady client for basically forever, with how much they need watered n' protected from pests."  
  
    My brow lowers in irritation as I chew on my pancakes. "Cheese us Tommy, this ain't the middle ages. I'm not gonna marry into some 'rich family' to get our own family a paw up. That's old-fashioned thinking there."  
  
    "Yeah well, last I checked bugs still eat plants, and money still makes the world go 'round," Tommy loses his humor and shoves himself up and away from the table. "So unless that's changed-"  
  
    "We still have the Hopps contract underway, Tommy," I suck my teeth at him. "In fact, I'm going there right after breakfast to meet with 'em."  
  
    Tommy pokes me square in the chest. "Well, if your 'winsome personality' can't even get the panties off a doe or win a crowd, what makes you think you're the right buck for the Hopps job?"  
  
    I sneer and push up from the table, staring straight at him. "The Hopps patriarch likes me. Last I checked, momma sent  _me_ to the convention in Zootopia and the Hopps compound and not someone of  _your_ demeanor." I look him up and down judgmentally. Tommy's fists bunch up.  
  
    Both of us flinch as Aunt Sandy comes by and smashes a pan with a spoon repeatedly. "Cripes sake, you two! Ease off on the testosterone. huh? Ain't havin' you two coming to blows during breakfast!" Tommy scowls at me, and I crack my knuckles.  
  
    "I was just leaving," I grunt. "I got an  _appointment_ to keep." Tommy scoffs and heads off, while I go out to my truck and start her up.  
  
    My foul mood from what Tommy probably considers a "pep talk" starts to melt away as I put the radio on some good ol' country tunes and take in the early morning serenity of Bunnyburrow. Sure is nice to be back here. I dunno what I was thinking listening to the Hopps encourage me to go after that Judy doe. Granted, she's vivacious, energetic, and quite a looker, but I'm... not. Well, occasionally I've been told I'm at least the latter, heh!  
  
    Looking over the vast fields of the Hopps farm is a thing of beauty all of itself on this lovely spring morning. The Hopps family keeps their property so well-maintained; they already have several bunnies out working this early in the morning. Even after I've entered their property it's still a several-minute drive to the compound itself with a small handful of their fresh produce stands along the way.  
  
    I drive to the parking lot, hearing the satisfying sound of the gravel crunching beneath my tires. The lot is pretty full, though there's a free spot marked for guests near the compound proper. I second guess myself; am I really a "guest"? Business partner sure, but... I pull away from there and park a lot further down just in case someone else needs it. I'm of able body; it's no trouble to walk, it'll just take me a few more minutes.  
  
    I use those minutes to appreciate the wonder of the Hopps compound. There's buildings there for all sorts of uses, housing, events; they even have a gym! I get to the main entrance and spend another minute looking over the map they've drawn up for ignorant little bunnies like me who are only used to the mere mortal warrens of a more conservatively-sized bunny family. But the Hopps is no ordinary family, no sir.  
  
    I've been told to let myself in, so I do. Entering the main hall I'm assaulted by the smells of hearty breakfast foods of every kind you could imagine. Well, except the insect-based kind, I suppose. It's a good thing I've already had breakfast, or else I think my stomach might lead me in a revolt and I'd have to beg these fine rabbits for some of their expertly-cooked food. I see a few fairly familiar faces, including Timothy Hopps. He's fixing to be one of the best chefs in all of Bunnyburrow, and probably one of the reasons it smells so darn _good_ in here. Some of the youngins give me a wide berth, but others cheerfully wish me greetings and I wave and say "hi" back.  
  
    Near the entry hall, I'm supposed to meet... ah, there she is. Violet Hopps, the family organizer. In a family as big as this, I suppose someone needs to make sure all of the i's are dotted and all the t's are crossed. I smile slightly at seeing her; she reminds me a bit of Judy, actually. Her eyes are purple, but slightly more blue than Judy's. She's statuesque, even a bit taller than I am. Though the weather is mild, she wears a handsome-looking sweater and conservative skirt, and the look is finished with a pair of glasses. She currently appears to be scolding some young kits.  
  
    "-and do  _not_ go up into the tree in the northwest again, do you hear me?" Violet admonishes in a stern voice. "Do you hear me? Aster? Rose? Lily?" She looks at three kits in turn. "The branches on it are unsteady and might break. I don't want to catch you in there, understand?"  
  
    "Okay!" the three kids drone in unison and go off, giggling. I smile as I walk up to Violet, but she doesn't seem any more pleased to see me than that triplet of troublemakers. She adjusts her glasses in that unique look of skepticism and judgement that only bespectacled mammals can pull off.  
  
    "Good morning, Violet," I say cheerfully.  
  
    "Yes, well, that remains to be seen, Theodore Placid," Violet snips, sparing me but a moment's glance. I maintain my smile; I know Violet's a tough one to impress. "You're twenty minutes late." Oof, especially when I go and do something like _that_.  
  
    "My apologizes," I smile with my teeth. "I was just- just was admiring the splendor of the Hopps compound."  
  
    Violet's eyebrow raises; I don't think she believes me. "Okay then."  
  
    "So, can we get down to it, then?" I smile, rubbing my hands together. "I'll go over all the modifications I've made to the irrigation and anti-pest systems we've got going-"  
  
    Violet makes a terse horizontal movement of her paw to silence me and keeps the paw held in air. "No no, there's not enough time now. If I did the meeting with you _now_ it'd eat all into the rest of my schedule, which would cause a chain reaction that would make all of my other appointments and arrangements late. No, that won't do at all."  
  
    "Uh..." I blink in surprise. Is she just going to dismiss me? This isn't going to look good if I have to go back home without any progress.  
  
    "Let's see..." Violet listlessly navigates with the iPawpad she carries rigidly in her left hand and balanced against the crook of her arm. "Two-fifteen in the afternoon. I can make some time to talk to you then. Does that work for you?"  
  
    "Two-fifteen? That late?" I involuntarily wince. Shoot, what am I supposed to do until then!?  
  
    "Are you familiar with the Book of the Lamb, Theodore?" Violet suddenly asks me, holding her gaze on me for the first time I've noticed.  
  
    "Um, I do go to church on Sundays, ma'am," I reply.  
  
    Violet squints her eyes shut and makes another gesture as if to throw these words away. "No no, just Violet. Anyway, perhaps you are familiar with the scripture that reads 'let all things take place decently and in an orderly fashion'."  
  
    I swallow. "Er, yes muh- Violet." Oof, she has me at a real disadvantage here. "I didn't quite take you for the religious type."  
  
    "I'm not, I'm just well-read," Violet is back to staring at her iPawpad. "Two-fifteen and not a minute later, Theodore." She turns on her heel and walks away.  
  
    Shoot, that gives me a bad feeling in my gut. I rub it absently, looking around the compound. I've got nothing else on my own personal agenda today, so I have to find out how to fill several hours. I suppose I should go into the fields and check on the Placid handiwork we've got set up and make sure everything's ready for that exacting bunny. I breathe out.  
  
    Yeah, double-checking everything is sounding good right about now. I make my way back out of the compound's front doors.  
  
    The Hopps fields are immaculate and well-maintained. I enjoy my walk through them until by chance I see the Hopps matriarch refilling some of the stock at one of their roadside stands.  
  
    "Oh, Teddie, hi!" she says with an affectionate tone to her voice. She looks at the bunny girl tending the station. "Will you be okay here, Cassie?"  
  
    "Sure thing momma," the rabbit replies. Bonnie Hopps walks over to me smiles, clasping her hands loosely by her waist. I wave.  
  
    "Good to see you, Teddie," Bonnie smiles. "I was hoping that thing with Judy wouldn't scare you off."  
  
    "Oh, no ma'am," I smile sheepishly. "I was in Zootopia on business first, pleasure second."  
  
    "I'm sorry about that," Bonnie returns a guilty expression. "I could have told you it wouldn't work out between you and Judy."  
  
    "Now, I wouldn't have gone for it if I didn't fancy her," I admit, rubbing the back of my head. Violet's earlier accusation tugs at my brain cells. "As it's written: 'the heart is more deceitful than anything else and is desperately sick, who can understand it?'"  
  
    "Oh, you poor lovesick little buck," Bonnie says playfully while giggling. "Anyway, I suppose a doe here in Bunnyburrow would be more your speed."  
  
    "Definitely," I lazily nod in agreement, and realize how that must sound, tensing up. "Nh-not that Judy isn't an exceptional, driven doe!"  
  
    "Oh she's definitely _that_ ," Bonnie chuckles. "But I don't think she knows the meaning of 'settle down', in any capacity."  
  
    "Phew, I don't think I could abide that," I let my breath out slowly.  
  
    "Anyhow, I'm happy you're still content to work on this project with us," Bonnie smiles, clasping her hands again. "We have had a bit of a pest control problem since Night Howlers were made illegal."  
  
    "Yeah, replacing all of those dangerous plants with less dangerous plants and beneficial insects is quite a task," I reply. "The Placids are up to the challenge, though. We've got the labor and the supplies to-"  
  
    "Now now, I don't need a commercial, Teddie," Bonnie waves her arm. "Save that for Violet. Weren't you supposed to be meeting with her?"  
  
    "Ah, that was rescheduled for later today," I answer. "My fault."  
  
    "Oh, I could have warned you to be on time," Bonnie smirks. "Violet likes punctuality."  
  
    "Pickin' up on that," I put my hands in my pockets and nod. I take one out to wave at her. "With that, I should probably make sure I've got all of my crops in a row before I go talk to her again. Mind if I make my way through the fields, Mrs. Hopps?"  
  
    "Not at all, have fun!" Bonnie waves, and I'm gone.  
  
    Heading off to one section of the Hopps property, I hear a sound that can make even the tallest of mammals quiver in fear. To me, though, the drone is peaceful and inviting; it's the sound of honeybees. We owe so much of our farming livelihood to these insects and many don't even realize it! I wave to the beekeeper that always seems to be there, Barnaby. He's a friendly sort and enthusiastic about his work, though I don't know that I've ever seen his face clearly due to his beekeeper suit.  
  
    "Hey! Ted!" Barnaby greets me. His voice is loud so as to be heard over the drone of the bees. I wonder if he forgets to lower his volume when he's not around them.  
  
    "Barnaby!" I respond. I don't get  _too_ close to them. I'm not afraid of bees, but there's no sense in getting too friendly with them if you aren't properly equipped. "How are the girls doing?"  
  
    "Oh, just fine!" Barnaby gestures back at one of the beehives. "I've just introduced a new queen to one of the hives that needed one, and they've taken to her very well. I was worried for a moment there!"  
  
    "Glad they're doing well!" I nod. "Healthy, happy bees are such an asset."  
  
    "Don't know where we'd be without your family's honeybee supplies, Ted!" Barnaby says brightly. Or, I _think_ the tone is bright anyway; again, he's very loud. "Anyhow, I have some frames to check on! Catch you later!"  
  
    I sure hope he will, I think to myself. Though most of the Hopps I've met seem to like me, the decision to continue with Placid Suppliers and Solutions rests on Violet's sloping, feminine shoulders. I sigh to myself and check my watch; just about lunchtime. I head back to the compound; there's no way I'm going to be late this time.  
  
    "I don't suppose I could impose upon you for a meal?" I ask Timothy, who's busy making a small mountain of grilled cheese sandwiches. "I've got a bit of a late appointment here. Two-fifteen."  
  
    "Oh, sure, help yourself!" Timothy says. "There's always extra." He points to a vat. I take a plate and put a sandwich on it, and from the vat I pour myself a cup of... mmm, smells like tomato basil soup. A simple meal, but I feel like my mouth's watering in preparation.  
  
    "Thank you kindly," I say. "I just... y'know, wouldn't want to be a loose cog in the well-oiled machine you Hopps have going on."  
  
    Timothy laughs. "Oh, don't worry about that. Not all of us are like Violet."  
  
    "Knew I meant her, huh?" I smirk, sitting down somewhat close to him.  
  
    "Who else would make an appointment on the quarter hour? Our mistress of order, abolisher of chaos! Or so she'd like to think," Timothy smiles. "But nah, she does a good job. Just don't let her get to you."  
  
    I take a few bites of the sandwich and a sip of the soup. The cheese is rich and flavorful, the bread toasty and buttery, and the soup hearty and wholesome. It's amazing to me that this simple dish produced on a near assembly line by the Hopps chefs can still be so satisfying.  
  
    "Mm, delicious!" I rave. Timothy laughs it off; he's probably heard that from every meal he's made. "I appreciate it."  
  
    "No trouble at all," Timothy claims with a broad grin. "You hear I'm next in line to receive the Hopps secret family recipes?"  
  
    "No kidding?" I say after another steamy sip of soup.  
  
    Timothy gives me a devious smirk and curls his fingers into a fist. "With that kind of power and my own skills, I'll take the Bunnyburrow culinary world by storm! No one will be able to stop me!" I laugh genuinely at the ambition. The Hopps are an interesting sort.  
  
    Eventually, the time comes for me to meet with Violet again. Actually, the time is two, sharp. I figure I better not risk being late again, so instead I'm early. I follow the sound of Violet yelling at someone. Ah, it's those flower-named kits from earlier. One of the girls is sniffling, holding her arm. There appears to be a splash of blood-caked fur on her arm.  
  
    "What did I _tell you_!?" Violet rages at the kit. I wince reflexively. "You three played on that tree, didn't you? _Didn't you?_ " The two other little kits look hesitant to respond.  
  
    "Wh-we did," the boy pipes up. Aster, I'm guessing.  
  
    "After I explicitly directed you _not_ to!?" Violet snaps, shaking her finger at them. "And look, Rose is hurt! I just- you... rrrrrgh! If you would have listened to me, this would  _not_ have happened! Lily?"  
  
    "Sorry, Violet," Lily mumbles while rubbing her paw on the floor. The injured one, Rose, just sniffles harder.  
  
    "Take her to the infirmary and get Cinnamon to look at you all," Violet frowns. "Go!" The three go off, making sure their injured sister is okay. I walk up to Violet. She holds her hand up in front of her face and the paw trembles disconcertingly. I blink at this and clear my throat gently.  
  
    "Ah, Violet?"  
  
    "What- what!? Yes?" Violet appears shocked and folds her arms tightly. "Ah, Theodore. You're early."  
  
    "I can wait for the appointed time," I say gently.  
  
    "That might- no, that won't be necessary," Violet shakes her head vehemently. Her paws are still tightly folded.  
  
    "Are you all right?" I ask, my brow raising.  
  
    "Fine- I'm fine," Violet grits her teeth, her eyes wandering away from me. "Just those- those children! If they'd have listened to me, Rose wouldn't have gotten hurt."  
  
    "It's not my place to say... but..." I search my thoughts for what I want to convey. "You know, sometimes kits just have to make their own mistakes, right?"  
  
    "Right, because the word of experienced elders who may have encountered those  _same problems_ is somehow unhelpful," Violet sneers, still not looking at me.  
  
    "There's no substitute for experience," I say sadly. "I've learned such myself with Judy. You can be told something's wrong and still go for it because it's something you want, then..."  
  
    Violet frowns and looks at me again. "Are you bitter that it didn't work out between you and Judy?"  
  
    "No, far from it," I try to smile. "I feel like I learned something about myself from that whole thing." She subtly checks on her paw, which is still trembling.  
  
    "Mm, that's good then," Violet says distractedly.  
  
    "Are you, um... are you _doin'_ all right, Violet?" I ask.  
  
    "Panic attack," Violet says tersely. "It'll pass eventually." My eyes go wide.  
  
    "Good grief! Well that ain't good...!" Upon reflection, not my deepest insight. Violet looks at me incredulously, then scoffs into a smirk.  
  
    "No, it isn't."  
  
    "There anything I can do?" I wonder aloud automatically.  
  
    Violet looks down, then a look of guilt and maybe even pain passes onto her. "Can we reschedule again?" My stomach drops.  
  
    "Ah..." This isn't good. My family is going to have a fit if I don't finalize the Hopps deal. "Can I just perhaps talk to someone else about it...?"  
  
    "No no," Violet shakes her head. "I will be making the decision. It's... I'm just not in a good place right now. Schedule's too tight today on my end. My fault; I should know better. I'll- I'll pay you for your consultation fee today, and... how's Saturday? Eleven in the morning? I'll schedule a big block of time for you. No interruptions or intrusions."  
  
    Well, maybe a consultation fee will placate my mother. I nod slowly. "Saturday... Saturday should be fine." That's my day off, but heck, I suppose that just means I've got nothing planned.  
  
    "My deep apologies," Violet bows her head slightly. "Sometimes dealing with things like this... you know. It's just one thing and another and then it all falls over like a precariously-stacked house of cards. Despite... despite my best efforts."  
  
    I make an inquisitive face. "That doesn't mean you're not the best for the job, though."  
  
    "What does that mean?" Violet looks mystified. "No, if I was the _best_ , there would be no problems. Everything would go according to my design."  
  
    "Well, I know what the Good Book says about that," I try a smile. "Y'know... I'm paraphrasing, but that scripture that goes: 'I've seen that the fast do not always win the race, nor do the mighty win the battle, nor do the wise always have the food, nor do the intelligent always have the riches, nor do those with knowledge always have success, because time and unexpected events overtake them all."  
  
    Violet smiles wryly, her arms still folded. "I suppose you _are_ paying attention on Sundays, then. Is that passage supposed to make me feel better?"  
  
    I shrug. "I just take it to mean that you can do everything right and still fail. And that's... it's okay."  
  
    Violet holds my gaze for a few moments. "I... suppose." She briefly looks at her paw again; it seems to have stopped shaking. "I will see you then on Saturday, yes?"  
  
    "Sure, but..." I wince. "I mean, meaning no disrespect, but I have already checked all of the apparatus and things we Placids have set up on your farm. I think it should all be good to-"  
  
    "No no no," Violet wiggles her finger. "No, I'll have to check it all with you and go through all the details. I'm not going to leave anything in this operation to chance, understand?"  
  
    "Yes ma- umh... er, yes Violet," I chuckle. She smiles slowly.  
  
    "Saturday then," Violet says yet another time.  
  
    "It's a date," I shrug, somewhat defeated. She seems to consider this, and nods once, moving off after a little nudge of her glasses.  
  
    I feel dread creeping up on me on the ride home. I've essentially wasted the day, and got nothing done to show for it but a modest paycheck. The feeling isn't helped by the first family member I see at home being my mother. She's a stocky, short, broad doe with less patience than Tommy and none of his joviality.  
  
    "Did you close the Hopps deal today, Ted?" She looks over at me skeptically, adjusting her half-moon glasses. Ugh, that _move_. It just feels so judgemental...  
  
    "Not quite," I admit, then quickly add: "I'm going back on Saturday, everything looks good."  
  
    "Why couldn't you close it today?" my mother snaps. "We're depending on the money from that deal! The Hopps are the biggest client we have and we _need_ that money!"  
  
    "I'm sorry, momma," I hang my shoulders. "It's just, the doe in charge was kind of in a bad way, and I was a few minutes late, and she had to cancel at the last minute..."  
  
    "For crying out loud," my mother pokes me in the chest. "Don't be such a carrot-plucking _pushover_! You've got to insist on your way or else you'll be walked all over! Do I need to send another of my sons in there who won't get trampled on by some scrawny Hopps does!?"  
  
    "No, mother," I frown. "Listen, I got a consulting fee from them today, so it's not like-"  
  
    "Well, then you better use some of that to buy yourself dinner, because you're not going to get any of my stew tonight," mom grunts at me.  
  
    "I'm  _going_ to close the Hopps deal, momma, just give me till Saturday," I grumble. "I'm amicable with the Hopps; they like me."  
  
    "Well, you better," mom says. "'Like' don't pay the bills."  
  
    It's probably just as well I don't have any dinner; I feel a bit sick to my stomach. I head into my room for some rest and maybe even an early nights sleep. Reflecting on the day I've had, I find it strange that the Hopps are, on the whole, a friendly and accepting bunch with a lot of wiggle room and hospitality to spare, where my own family seems to jump on the tiniest mistakes and pinch pennies so hard you can feel the metal denting. I suppose the Hopps can "afford" to be so happy, though I doubt that's all there is to it.  
  
    Sometimes I feel like I've been born into the wrong family. I don't want to give my family the satisfaction of becoming just like the rest of them, though. I really would rather be a Hopps, I think. To hang out with the likes of Timothy, Barnaby, and Bonnie all day, laughing and having a good time while we got the work we love done.  
  
    Ah well, maybe one day I'll be able to meet a nice girl that thinks my amicability and easy-going nature aren't a liability.  
  
    I thought on Violet briefly. When I said "it's a date", was that a coy nod she made? I shook my head into my pillow.  
  
    Pff, that was a weird thought. Me n' Violet? I dunno if I could be with a fussbudget like that. I guess I'll  _have_ to be with her, though.  
  
    At least for Saturday.


	8. Catherine Marengo

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Catherine, like Avery, was first mentioned in "Secretive Partners", of the Partners series. 
> 
> She also appears in the "Different Tail" "Unsatisfied", which takes place in a different timeline to this series of events.

    I wake to the sound of shrill crying.  
  
    That's how all of my days are starting in recent times. Oh, but I don't mind, not at all. I've perfected this method of getting out of bed while still ninety percent asleep that won't disturb either of my partners. I shuffle over to our other bedroom and make my way to the corner, where the crib is.  
  
    "Mmm, hush now Cindy, momma's here," I coo affectionately, picking up the crying little kit. Oh, is she ever beautiful. She has a subdued, tawny gray coat and a little red stripe on her back. Bits of her face and chest are white, while her belly is intermixed with more grays. What a little treasure she is to behold.  
  
    And she's  _my_ daughter...  
  
    ...Sort of.  
  
    It's a strange thought to have as I bring Cindy to my midsection. She instinctively starts looking for her source of food, and finding it, she gently begins to feed. Not  _too_ gently, though. I fight a giggle as the hungry little fox kit takes her breakfast.  
  
    She  _is_ my daughter. But not a bit of her is "me". I've fooled many, many mammals into thinking otherwise. I let them have their little fantasy, because truthfully it's one I allow myself as well. To be fair, she has all the colors of a gray fox, though they're arranged differently, as if someone shuffled them. She's a lovely little shuffle, though.  
  
    I'm rocking my hips and humming slightly as I feed Cindy; she's nestled close to me as I hold her. I realize I'm humming, as well. It takes me a few seconds to recognize the tune I've called from my mind to soothe my child, but it's "A Dream is a Wish Your Heart Makes".  
  
    I've gotten a bit more sentimental recently. Okay, a _lot_ more. I decide to keep humming.  
  
    Cindy really is a dream come true.  
  
    I let myself reflect back on how she came to be. It took me a long time of patiently pleading with my mates Avery and Vivian, but I finally convinced them we should try having children. Or, more accurately,  _they_ should try having children. Thanks to biology, it's impossible for a red fox and gray fox to actually have a child together. Different number of chromosomes. If I believed in the Celestials I'd curse them for making my heart ache to have a child sired by Avery. An impossibility.  
  
    Both Avery and Vivian are red foxes however, so the only thing stopping them was their reservations to becoming parents. Believe me, I know it's a cruel,  _stupid_ world. But... I'd like to think our children could help make it better. Hm, maybe I've always been sentimental.  
  
    So, my mates set up a consultation at the Honeywell Genetic Counselling Centre. That place has a reputation. It's been called a bastion to false hope. It's been called the place where prospective parents' dreams go to be shattered into tiny, unsalvegable pieces. Yet, given Avery's history with genetics, my two mates went there just on the off chance there was something wrong with their pairing.  
  
    There wasn't. I freely admit I cried when I heard the news. But there was a wrinkle. Cautiously, my mates asked me if I'd like to go to the Centre  _with_ them. I asked why, and they admitted they had told Dr. David Hawthorne, their consultant, a lot about their relationships, including me. He said he had a proposition, an option that could be explored.  
  
    I was terrified to go there. I'd heard the horror stories; the type of emotional damage that could and regularly did happen. Mixed-species children were just not something that could be done in almost all cases. I'd done plenty of research on it myself, cursing the science that kept me from what I wanted most. And here I was about to go submit to it. To start crafting my own dream of what might be possible. I was so scared of what Dr. Hawthorne would tell me.  
  
    During my consultation, I had both of my mates there. Still, that was no help in salvaging my pride, which was about to be dealt a heavy blow. I cried hysterically when Dr. Hawthorne told me the news.  
  
    He said that it might be possible for me to  _carry_ Avery and Vivian's child.  
  
    It sounded like science fiction. Through teary eyes I told Dr. Hawthorne that we'd have to discuss it and get back to him later. But I already knew I couldn't ask Vivian and Avery to go through the kind of procedures the doctor described, even if they were minimally invasive.  
  
    Especially not Avery.  
  
    Avery himself was a product of manipulation at the hands of doctors. He was selected from a group of embryos from his mother for the little bit in his genetic code that would give him the striking black and silver coat that he has. I knew I couldn't ask Avery to start the cycle anew. I couldn't ask him to have a child of  _his_ brought into this world from the whims of doctors performing essentially mad science. So I didn't. I resolved not to. Instead, Avery approached  _me_ one evening while I had curled myself into a little ball on the couch, my knees close to my chest, my tail around my ankles.  
  
    "I can tell you're still thinking about what Dr. Hawthorne said," Avery had said.  
  
    "Yeah, well it doesn't matter," I replied despondently. "It doesn't matter what I'd want. I'm... it's enough for me if you two just have a baby naturally. That's... that's what should happen."  
  
    "That's not how we do things in our family, Cat-Kat, you know that," Avery said ever so tenderly, petting my leg. I tried very hard to look away from him, but my eyes locked desperately onto his enchanting, enrapturing yellowish-brown eyes. "We do things together."  
  
    "I can't, Avery, I _can't_!" I sobbed. "I can't ask that of you!"  
  
    "Catherine, I want you to be a part of this," Avery said gently, squeezing my shoulder. "Vivian does too. If you really want to try this, we'll do it."  
  
    "...I do, Karma help me I _do_..." I wailed.  
  
    And so, we did. I became pregnant with Avery and Vivian's child. My body would change naturally to carry the baby as if it really were my own, and even to feed her once she was brought into the world. It was fun to tell my workmates at the Grand Zootopia Library that my boyfriend had finally gotten me pregnant. Not exactly a lie, but not entirely the truth. Of course, many mammals are so ignorant that they'd believe anything you told them. The lie that a red fox and gray fox could have a child together. The lie I wanted so much to be true.  
  
    I was very, very nervous for most of my pregnancy. I had nightmares that the fetus would be too big for me to handle, or that once she was born she'd find my milk somehow toxic, though Dr. Hawthorne assured me this would not be the case. Or, just that I'd lose her entirely. It was a long few months. I tried to convince myself not to think of her as a certainty until she was actually in my arms. I knew that in some ways I didn't deserve her. I also knew that it would devastate me if things didn't work out.  
  
    Against all of my fears, the little fox was born into the world as healthy as one could be. There was a lot of crying. Some from Avery, a little from Vivian, a lot from me, but most of it was a joyous sound coming from the little baby in our arms. We decided to name her Cindy Reddish. That's actually short for Cinderella; it means "little ashes". "Little reddish ashes"... it describes her coat quite nicely. And like a mystical phoenix, she rose from the ashes of my worry and fears and made my fondest dream come true.  
  
    It's still a lot to take in.  
  
    I've been standing still for a little while, I realize. The suckling has stopped, and Cindy is again sleeping peacefully in my arms. I reluctantly lay her back in her crib and tuck her in. I should probably head back to bed myself; I have work in the morning after all. I wonder when the three of us should start actually wearing clothing to bed. I wouldn't want to give other mammals an extra reason to ridicule Cindy by her being brought up with such a "weird family". That is, in case she decided to innocently divulge that fact to someone when she gets older. _That_ might be a bit unavoidable though. ...I'm going to do the best I can.  
  
    I stop and take in a sharp breath. I see the black shadow in the hallway. This particular shadow has scared me many times before, looming in the dark as he does. Especially when he dramatically opens those yellow eyes to look at me. I don't think he does it on purpose, though; it's hard for him to open his eyes when he's tired. I chuckle out loud.  
  
    "Morning, Avery," I say quietly.  
  
    "Is Cindy okay...?" his gentle voice asks. Basically every morning, that's what he wants to know. He's such a good dad.  
  
    "Mmhm, she's fine," I nod. "Fed and sleeping."  
  
    "S'good..." Avery nods. He half turns away and looks back at me. Poor guy's brain barely works when he's tired. "Comin' back to bed?"  
  
    "Uh huh," I nod. "I better get what sleep I can before work tomorrow. Er, _today_." I giggle gently.  
  
    Avery rubs his forehead and nods. The yellow eyes become little slits again and he shuffles back to bed. What a goofball. I love him so much. I follow him back to our bedroom. Though my thoughts are nearly buzzing, I always find it surprising how quickly oblivion takes me. I don't get too many full nights of sleep lately. But I wouldn't trade that for anything.  
  
    When I wake up next, the next few minutes are a blur, an orderly whirlwind of activity.  
  
    "Okay," I start to rattle off, facing my mates as if they were my troops. Vivian is holding Cindy, who has a pacifier in her muzzle, her yellow-brown eyes irresistibly gigantic. "Cindy's fed, pacified, and changed. I've got some of my milk in the fridge for if she needs it, remember to warm it up for a few seconds. Goodbye, handsome." I kiss Avery on the nose; it takes standing up on tip toes to do so. "Goodbye, pretty." I follow suit with Vivian. "And goodbye, precious cutsie-wootsie fox!" I smooch her forehead and Cindy's eyes narrow ever so slightly, as if she's smiling with them; it makes me squeal and my tail thrash.  
  
    "Ghaa...!" Cindy proclaims exuberantly, spitting out her pacifier.  
  
    "Oops...!" I go to get it, crouching down.  
  
    "I got it Cat, have a good day at work," Avery chuckles, moving to pick up the pacifier and clean it off.     
  
    "Say bye bye to momma!" Vivian says, waving Cindy's paw for her. It's too cute; I have to get out of here before I explode. I look back and see Cindy looking up at her mother like she's confused why her paw is being held captive. I let another small squeal through my teeth before I get out the door.  
  
    I feel so ecstatic as I get into the Grand Zootopia Library. I'm sure some of my co-workers see my mood, but none comment on it. I feel like spinning around with my paws held wide, basking in the glory of the wondrous stacks of books that reach up to a giraffe's height. I feel like bursting into song, perhaps extolling the virtues of the world and everything in it. I don't actually _do_ either of these things, because I'm pretty sure I'd be committed if I did.  
  
    Working at the library actually keeps me pretty fit. The smaller you are, the more work it is to be a librarian. Picking out a book meant for big bear paws from the top shelf while balancing on a ladder is no small feat. Or, I guess it _is_. I giggle at this thought.  
  
    I think about Cindy a lot throughout the day as I sit down at the desk. Will she like to read? Children these days have so many things to distract them. Video games, electronic devices, social networking... where is there time to read? Maybe I could put some sort of literature app on whatever smart device we end up giving her. Maybe she wouldn't really like reading at all.  
  
    I slowly come down off of my emotional high as I remain there at the front desk, assisting mammals to find what books they need. I start to think about myself, and how good I have it.  
  
    Vivian is working through her initial reservations of having a child of her own, because I insisted she try. Was I too pushy? Does she enjoy being a mother as much as I do?  
  
    Avery let science play a part in the forming of his child, as it had helped form him. This despite the fact that he felt ostracized and disconnected due to his differences. Will Cindy have to face those same challenges? Same feelings?  
  
    And what have I given up? Any chance of a full night's sleep for the next long while, maybe, but it's what I asked for. Cindy is just what I wanted. Everything I wanted.  
  
    I start to type into my phone. I think about it for a little while before I send the message.  
  
    [Am I selfish?] I type to Vivian.  
  
    [You know Avery's rule, Cat] she gets back to me a bit later. Ah yes, Avery's one rule of social interaction. "No discussing emotional matters over text". Basically, that's the one thing Avery has ever wanted to strictly enforce. He knows Vivian and I can stew in our own thoughts till we're simmering or boiling, and when we talk to each other only a paw's reach away, things tend to turn out better. Truthfully I was trying to circumvent that rule by asking Vivian, because Avery would have refused to answer it outright. Oh well.  
  
    I half-smile. I have a feeling the "play parents against each other" game will be extra interesting when Cindy is old enough to do that, considering she has three parents. After all, we play ourselves against each other already.  
  
    My phone buzzes a few minutes later; I look at the phone to see who it is. A picture from Avery. It's Cindy, sitting on his lap, stretching her arms up to her father with a delighted look on her face. I have to cover my mouth with one hand; the urge to squeal is enormous. Avery is an artist even in his photography, and he waited for just the right moment to capture our daughter. Pretty soon I feel like my phone's going to be filled up with pictures of her. Our house, on the other paw, is going to be filled up with  _paintings_ of her, if Avery's pride of her is anything to go by. We have no restraint.  
  
    I do a slight double take as a form enters my sight and I discover that I recognize him. It's Dr. David Hawthorne, of all mammals! The wolf comes up to me with a polite smile.  
  
    "Doctor... Dr. Hawthorne?" I didn't expect to see him here.  
  
    "Ms. Marengo! Or do you prefer Mrs.?" Dr. Hawthorne holds up his paw in greeting.  
  
    "Oh, Miss is fine," I nod.  
  
    "How is everything?" the wolf asks me.  
  
    "Oh, it's just fine; Cindy is just _perfect_ ," my voice titters like a songbird.  
  
    "It's always so nice to hear from a family that the Honeywell Genetic Counselling Centre has made happier," Dr. Hawthorne's smile is earnest and inviting, and I feel a rogue impulse to hug him just at that.  
  
    "So um, can I help you with anything?" I ask him. "I can't imagine what a doctor would need with a library in this day and age."  
  
    "Old medical journals," Dr. Hawthorne nods. "I'm looking for an article on a rare genetic disease. Very rare. The journal is at least three decades old, and it was never digitized. I'm afraid I have to do things the old fashioned way for this one."  
  
    "Oh right, right, research papers," I nod. "Right, that would be in section twelve hundred, far back to your left. A rare genetic disease, huh? That doesn't sound fun."  
  
    "Well, my work is rarely what many would consider 'fun', Ms. Marengo," he smiles, but I think I can detect a hint of hurt nestled deep under his fur. He brightens a few shades. "I don't suppose you- ...ah, no, never mind."  
  
    "Um..." I try to think, trying to hop onto his train of thought before it leaves the station. "Oh! Would you like to see some pictures of Cindy?"  
  
    "I'd like that very much," Dr. Hawthorne's smile is much more open. I show him pictures for the better part of seven minutes. "Goodness, did a professional photographer take these? The framing and lighting is exquisite. And I know how fidgety a lot of babies can be."  
  
    "Ah, not quite, but Avery  _is_ an artist," I smile proudly. "And... well, he's very patient."  
  
    "She looks just perfect, Ms. Marengo," there's a small hitch in Dr. Hawthorne's voice as he hands me back my phone. "She's absolutely delightful, and quite obviously happy." He shook his head. "But unfortunately I really should go get to work."  
  
    "Oh, yes, of course," I nod. "Um, hope to see you again!"  
  
    Dr. Hawthorne smiles, a slight twinkle in his eyes at my remark. "Do you, now?"  
  
    "Well, maybe we might need some more consulting if we decided to have another...?" my voice is almost a squeak.  
  
    "We will do whatever we can," Dr. Hawthorne says. "Good day, Ms. Marengo." I wave at him. Thanks in part to that wolf, my dreams became a reality. I let out a slow sigh.  
  
    After I get home and say my greetings to everyone, I tell my family about seeing Dr. Hawthorne, to which they all listen with interest. Cindy's a bit of a drama queen and almost immediately demands my attention, so I go to feed her, change her, and burp her. She settles down into a nap eventually, but it isn't until the evening when I set her into her crib that she should be down for the count.  
  
    But knowing her, that can mean anything.  
  
    Vivian gives me a knowing smile as we eat our dinner; she knows Avery's rule has worked. When we're apart, our individual worries, fears, and reservations about the world all tend to build up and develop into our personal darknesses. Vivian's disdain at intolerance. Avery's self-doubt. My irritation at ignorance. As the shadows grow, we need to come near to each other to allay them. Avery's a smart, caring father, and I hope he teaches this lesson to Cindy someday.  
  
    "I'm sure you're tired, Avery," I tell my lover.  
  
    "A good kind of tired, though," Avery smiles gently. So sweet. "Let me tell you, though. I rue the day when she goes mobile."  
  
    "Like, texting, or...?" I start.  
  
    "No, like _moving_ ," Avery laughs. "Even baby-proofing everything in this house, I have a feeling there's going to be paint splattered all over everywhere once she finds my supplies."  
  
    "You've made some sacrifices, and so have we all," Vivian said playfully, but then she shakes her head and smiles, as if to stifle me preemptively. "Cindy's been so worth it, though."  
  
    "I really hoped you'd think so," I smile. "You're both such great parents."  
  
    "There's another one over there," Avery says, pointing towards the tasteful portraits he's drawn of all three of us hanging over the fireplace mantle. He's pointing at mine, of course. The sweetie.  
  
    "That reminds me, I'll need to keep our ring box locked up tight until she's old enough to actually wear one," Vivian muses. "I wonder which one will suit her. I hope she likes one of the ones we don't already wear!"  
  
    "Might I have to give mine up?" I flash my ring. "The zesty, tangy 'lemon' topaz?"  
  
    Avery looks at his. "The tender, sweet 'grape' amethyst?"  
  
    Vivian wiggles her finger. "Or the crisp, refreshing 'apple' ruby? Who knows. Maybe she'll just like the color on one of them." Vivian giggles.  
  
    "It'll be so nice to share that with her," I say. I pause, sighing. "Thank you..."  
  
    "For what?" both of my mates ask.  
  
    "I dunno, I just felt like saying thank you," I say, my voice both bright and weak. "I feel like thanking everyone. You two, the doctors who helped us, science itself... maybe even the Celestials, if they exist."  
  
    "If they do, I bet Karma will have a field day with you if you ever meet her," Vivian chuckles.  
  
    "I know, I know..." I wince. "I've gotten everything I wanted..."  
  
    "I think Vivvy and I wanted it too," Avery says, reaching over to gently squeeze my paw. "We just needed some time, and some perspective."  
  
    I nod. "It's been a long day... let's turn in."  
  
    And so we do, again discarding our clothes for the intermingling of our various colored furs on our large bed. I feel so soft and comfortable in my cloud of comfort that I could probably stay there the rest of the night.  
  
    Well, until Cindy says otherwise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A big thanks to eng050599 for the research that went into this chapter! Though the situation may seem a bit far-fetched, it is at least plausible. eng050599 answered a lot of questions I asked and even proposed the method of how the threesome might have the child. Most of the details in this chapter are largely due to his work. 
> 
> Dr. David Hawthorne and the Honeywell Conseulling Centre come from "Lost Causes and Broken Dreams", by eng050599, who has asked me to forewarn anyone wishing to peruse that fanfic that it can be a very dark, emotional fanfic at times. I do recommend it though myself, if you can handle some dark themes and trauma. 
> 
> Once again, a huge thanks to him for his help with this!


	9. Cyrus Gainsboro

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cyrus is mentioned in the "Different Tails" chapter Hope II, which predates this chapter.

    I yawn and smack my tongue as the sound of a text gets me out of bed. I check the time.  
  
    11:30 A.M. Perfect time to get out of bed on a weekend! I stretch and let loose a yawn that caps off with a wolfy whine. Picking up my phone from the nightstand, I see that the text is from Terry, my best bud.  
  
    [Wanna do lunch?] it says.  
  
    [Sure! Anywhere in mind?] I reply.  
  
    [Maybe just the Bug Burga near the park?]  
  
    [K.]  
  
    I leap out of bed and do my morning stuff. I can't speak for other species, but a lot of wolves I know like to keep a certain amount of pride in their personal appearance. Some people have their particulars, and for me it's my teeth. I brush them and look at them skeptically in the mirror. Nice, gleaming, white, and sharp. Time to blow this popsicle stand.  
  
    I'm nearly to the front door when mom stops me.  
  
    "Excuse me, young pup, where do you think _you're_ going?" It's that really "mom" voice. You probably know the one.  
  
    "Out," I point at the door offhandedly, turning to look at her. She's very slightly smaller than me, but she's still my mom, so her glare burns holes into my fur. "Terry wants to have lunch with me."  
  
    "You spend so much time with that cheetah," she smirks. "But I fixed you a couple of sandwiches. Who's gonna eat them if you go prancing out into the city?"  
  
    "I volunteer," my stout and built dad says without even looking at either of us, raising his hand from his position on the couch. He's watching some pro pawball.  
  
    "You are  _not_ eating both of his sandwiches; you already  _had_ lunch!" Mom folds her arms.  
  
    "Oh no?" Dad gets up and walks over to mom, wiggling his eyebrows. "I think you're forgetting who the Alpha of this household is..."  
  
    "Ooh, am I?" Mom bumps him with her hip. "Maybe you should remind me." This is probably going to get ugly really fast.  
  
    "Okay anyway I'm going see ya bye," I say in a stilted voice, shutting the door before I hear a playful growl, snarl, and squeal. They've been together  _how_ long and they still don't have an ounce of shame?  
  
    So, in the probably likely chance you aren't a wolf, I guess I could explain what that's like. Being the "Alpha" and all. My mom was actually the Alpha when she was growing up in school. It's a canine thing, mostly. Wolves have this thing; we usually like forming into "packs" in all sorts of situations. In school, in the home, even at work. You get a lot of us together and we kind of have to choose a leader, even if it's sort of a small, mostly ceremonial thing. Every group has to have a leader, right? Other canines are supposed to at least respect the Alpha, and if you don't there's usually trouble.  
  
    Anyway, mom was the Alpha of her school pretty much, when she got together with dad _he_ became the Alpha. Not by default, exactly, or just because he's male, but there's a lot of... uh, stuff involved. Stuff that I  _really_ don't want to envision my parents doing.  
  
    On a less horrifying note, I was the Alpha of my middle school! It was pretty cool, and I use CyrusAlpha as my username on the internet, just because it sounds pretty impressive, right? I was so proud to tell mom I was following her pawprints. She gave me this important lesson, though, about being Alpha:  
  
    "Being the Alpha means you don't impose your will by just force. That's not being an Alpha, it's being a bully. Being the Alpha means you win your pack with what's in here." She said, pointing at her head.  
  
    The thing is: I don't really think a lot of wolves are known for being geniuses? I know _I'm_ not.  
  
    That actually brings me to Terry, who I'm going to go meet right now. Just thinking about him makes me grin a little; he is my best friend after all. He's a cheetah, and they're pretty cool. Fastest animals alive! You know, you might have heard the expression "lone wolf" but cheetahs are the ones that actually kind of embody that. They're usually loners. I was having a lot of trouble with my classes; I was kind of distracted when I lost my position as Alpha wolf in high school.  
  
    Yeah, this guy named Fang Thompson kinda beat me up and "stole" my title. He could have it, I guess. Not worth that kinda trouble. Not to mention school's almost over, so he should live it up while he can.  
  
    Oh, that brings me back to Terry, though. He offered to tutor me when he heard I was having trouble. And, truth be told, it wasn't going so well at first, his lessons. I just don't have the kinda attention span to study hard. So he taught me these tricks; I think they're called pneumatic devices?  
  
    Anyway, it goes like this. You take something like the parable of the Fox and the Grapes. How am I supposed to remember what that's about, fox and grapes? What? But he told me you just have to focus in on like a little part of it. Why's the fox upset? Because he can't have the grapes, and so he sorta grumbles and cusses about it. Fox and the _grr_ apes. That's how he got me to remember it. And stuff like that works! Terry's a miracle worker. My grades got back into decent position and I no longer have my tail between my legs every time I tell my parents how I'm doing.  
  
    Terry's... he's got some issues, though. Poor cheetah is shy, and has some deep-seated trauma. He's also smart, so people pick on him for that. And more recently he's got a bit of attention as a tutor because of what he did for me so people are even trying to bully him into helping them study? What is this world even coming to?  
  
    As his best friend, I kinda signed on to be his protector. Not too many predators are as intimidating as a growling wolf, in my opinion. Maybe some of the other big cats, but psh. You know cats. They're mostly stuck up and full of themselves. I mean, not Terry. Cheetahs, like I said. Different kinda cat.  
  
    I get closer to the Bug Burga. It's a bit of a walk from our apartment, especially if the lights don't behave, but I don't mind too much.       
  
    I couldn't be in all of Terry's classes, but I was in as many as I could be. Even PE, and especially PE. I felt like I had to protect Terry. He was really skittish about the whole shower situation. He almost always wears sweaters or at least long sleeved shirts, hoodies, or coats. That's because, well, he's got kind of these light patches of fur on his arms where some scars are. Now wait, before you get the wrong idea, he hasn't tried leaving the mortal coil or anything, it's just that...  
  
    Well, he was in a car crash when he was young and it took both of his parents' lives. Yeah, it's like... how do you even deal with that? I know I'd have no idea. He lives with his older brother and sister. I don't think he's told anyone at school but me, so... I dunno, I guess he trusts me. Now, I know it didn't make my mom proud, but I have defended Terry physically a few times, from bigger mammals who  _really_ wanted to pick on him. Got into a few fights, even won a couple.  
  
    To be honest, though? Being Terry's friend is like,  _way_ more satisfying than being an Alpha was. Cheesy, right?  
  
    It helps that Terry's, uh... what's the right word. Cute? He's got glasses, and cheetahs are just naturally really slinky and... curvy? Okay, this is starting to sound strange. I mean c'mon, my private website viewing includes such treasures as Pantin' Waggin' Wolf Babes. Terry also purrs, though. Sometimes. When he's really content. That's like... I dunno if he does it around others? It's really sweet though. Jeez, I've got myself sounding like a chump.  
  
    Finally, I get to the Bug Burga. Terry's already there, and he smiles softly when he sees me. He's got friendly green eyes.  
  
    "Hi, Cyrus," he greets me. He's got this light voice that's not at all deep, though he claims his brother's is even higher. I don't think I've ever actually  _met_ his brother? One of the first things Terry ever said to me is that his brother was a cop. I guess he was probably scared of me at first.  
  
    "Hey Terry bud, Want the usual?" I point at the counter and he nods.  
  
    "Uh, can I pay this time?" Terry wonders.  
  
    "No can do," I smirk. "We only get the discount if I pay, since I'm the employee." Yeah, I work at this place on occasion. I mean, if you get one of the worst jobs there is, that prepares you for bigger and better things in the future, right?  
  
    "I can give you a few bucks later, then," Terry says.  
  
    "Eh, c'mon, what's a few greasy bug burgers between friends?" I shrug. Terry shrugs as well and just lets me pay for the two most standard burger combos they have. We take them and sit down.  
  
    Terry's mood is in flux often, and it seems like it's taking a dive as he starts to eat.  
  
    "What's wrong?" I ask.  
  
    "Dunno," Terry mumbles. "Just... y'know, school is almost over." He frowns, staring down at his food.  
  
    "Yeah," I nod, "so uh, you thought about college then?"  
  
    "Not really," Terry shakes his head subtly. "I don't even know what I'd want to be. My brother's a police officer, and my sister's a nurse. What am I gonna be, a firefighter? I don't... I don't really know if I can just _do_ something so selfless."  
  
    "Well you're  _smart_ enough for college," I keep a small smile on my face; I know if I frown it's just gonna be harder to build him back up. "You can probably get a scholarship and coast right through. Maybe you could... do something with teaching? Maybe a guidance counselor? Even psychologist?"  
  
    "Heh, _me_ , a psychologist, good one," Terry mutters. "I'm not... I'm not really that smart."  
  
    "Smarter than me-"  
  
    "I just know memory tricks and things," Terry shrugs his shoulders. "You know, like the kind I taught you."  
  
    "Right, pneumatic devices," I nod.  
  
    Terry looks surprised, then chuckles. "No. Pneumatic devices are tools that use compressed air.  _Mnemonic_ devices are the memory tricks I taught you."  
  
    "Oh, oops," I laugh. "Hey, see? You _are_ smart."  
  
    "I dunno, Cyrus... more school, though?" Terry winces. "Add that to the fact that... well, I don't guess we'd be hanging around much at the campus even if we went to the same college."  
  
    "Ugh, I didn't wanna think about that," I groan. "But hey, Terry, I'm always gonna be your friend, okay?"  
  
    "Yeah, I know..." Terry sighs, taking a sip of Cub Soda. "It was just... nice to have you as a friend all through high school."  
  
    "Well I'm not going anywhere!" I said. "I mean, I don't really know what I wanna do either. Maybe we can take a year and figure it out, right? Betcha the world will still be here, waiting."  
  
    "That sounds nice," Terry smiles, and it's a fairly rare sight to see him happy. It's a good feeling, to see that.  
  
    "Hey, after the burger, you wanna maybe take a walk in the park?" I suggest, gesturing with a hand.  
  
    "You wolves and your walks," Terry teases. Okay, that's how I  _know_ he's in a good mood. When he suddenly grows a sense of humor.  
  
    I made a wordless mumble to object and add a few frantic gestures. "Hey, walks are _super good_ , okay?"  
  
    "Yeah, I like them," Terry smiles, chuckling. "I mean, I like runs too, on occasion. That's what cheetah's kinda _do_. But they tire me out so quickly... walks are nice."       
  
    So we go on a walk. Mezzo Park is warm this time of year; a little  _too_ warm for me. I dunno how Terry does it with his long-sleeved shirts, but I don't wanna bug him about it. I guess cheetahs are kind of built for the warm weather? He looks lost in thought as we walk, his hands in his pockets.  
  
    "So you broke up with Rachel?" Terry asks me. I nod. "Why's that? Just cause it was close to the end of the school year?"  
  
    "Nah, Rachel's... she's kind of a psycho," I wave my hands in front of me. Don't get me wrong. I was grateful to have a girlfriend after I lost my "Alpha" title, but...  
  
    "Really? I thought you two looked kinda good together," Terry tilts his head, then adjusts his glasses, which had started to slide. "You know, gray wolf with a white wolf girl..."  
  
    "She was like... she always wanted to hang out," I scoff. "I dunno. It got annoying."  
  
    "To spend time with your girlfriend?" Terry's looking more and more confused. "I mean... we hang out all the time. Do I annoy you?"  
  
    "No no, it's different," I shake my head while grumbling in frustration at how I want to put this. "You know sometimes you _don't_ wanna hang out, right? Even though we're best friends?"  
  
    "Yeah, sometimes it's just nice to be alone," Terry says softly.  
  
    "Exactly! And I  _get_ that," I nod rapidly. "Sometimes I just wanna relax too. But Rachel, she didn't get that. I always had to come up with some kind of excuse, and she got more and more aggressive with what she wanted. It was exhausting, dude. Stressful." I sigh. "That and she'd growl at me if she even _thought_ I was looking at another canine."  
  
    "Oof..." Terry frowns. "Sounds dangerous."  
  
    "I just thought you should be able to relax around your girl, you know?" I suck at my teeth and take out my phone. "One good thing came out of it, though. Check this out." I show Terry a picture of Rachel, posed on all fours and as bare as the day she came into the world.  
  
    "Whoa!" Terry blinks, then instinctively looks around to make sure no one else is around. "Wow, she's hot... and you gave  _that_ up?"  
  
    "Terry, she's definitely at least a nine outta ten, but on the crazy scale, too," I chuckle and wiggle my phone. "I think I'll have to keep a hold of this, though. In case she tries anything."  
  
    "...You wouldn't really use it against her, would you?" Terry looks upset. What, is this cheetah my conscience?  
  
    "No no," I quickly reply. "Just, you know. I don't want her to spread any nasty rumors about me. Maybe she'd think twice about doin' that if she knew I could shoot back with something like this."  
  
    Terry looks kinda worried, but also thoughtful. He shrugs like something's distracting him. "You know, I mean, Rachel _is_ hot and all...  but- uh, do you think I could ask you something?"  
  
    "Sure, what's up?" I reply.  
  
    Terry chuckles. "Y'know, you ever see a guy that's... I don't know, looks real nice? Just the right amount of fluff or whatever?" He's not really looking at me, keeping his eyes on his feet as he walks. I nervously chuckle a little. Kind of an awkward question, but I think about it. Maybe I take too long to respond, but he quickly adds: "I mean, I'm not gay or anything..."  
  
    "Oh yeah, uh, me neither," I'm finally jarred into speaking. "Um, heh, I guess fluff's nice, yeah, but some guys have some good- what, like, curves on them." I chuckle. "Nothin' wrong with that, is there?"  
  
    "No, I guess not," Terry's laugh is a little nervous. "Hey, um... you maybe wanna come over for dinner?"  
  
    "Sure!" I nod. "I've still never met your family. They in town?"  
  
    "Uh huh," Terry seems distracted again. "I guess they'll be glad to finally meet you, maybe."  
  
    "Lemme just text my folks," I say while doing so. "There." Terry nods and smiles in a reserved kinda way.  
  
    So after some aimless walking around and shooting the breeze, we decide to go back to his place. Parents haven't responded. Jeez, are they still up to... y'know, "whatever"...? Terry's apartment looks kinda small for three people. We go inside and immediately I spot a... a  _round_ cheetah who turns to look at me and gasps shrilly.  
  
    "Oh em _goodness_!" he says. Ah, that must be Benjamin. "Cyrus? Is that you?"  
  
    "Sure is," I nod. "The name's Cyrus Gainsboro. Nice to meet ya."  
  
    "Likewise! Terry's told me a lot about you," Benjamin has this big ol' smile. Not really what I expected when I thought of a cheetah cop, I'll be honest. He's a bit taller than Terry and more than twice as wide.  
  
    "This is my big brother Benjamin," Terry introduces me in kind of a muted way. His brother is _big_ , all right.  
  
    "What...?" a female voice calls out and its owner pokes out of the kitchen area. A female cheetah goes to join the two others. Of the three she's the tallest by just a bit, and  _wow_ is she hot...!? She's slinky and curvy, a real cheetah's cheetah. She's got bright brown eyes, almost red,  _and_ she's supposed to be a nurse? Dang, I've seen videos like that- I should probably get off of this line of thought before I get into trouble. "Wow, Terry finally brought Cyrus over." She sounds impressed.  
  
    "This is Barbara, my big sister," Terry says.  
  
    "Hey," my voice is almost a squeak.  
  
    "Can he stay for dinner?" Terry asks.  
  
    "Oh, I insist!" Benjamin nearly shouts. "...Um, that  _is_ okay, right Barb?" He laughs in a pinched way.  
  
    "Sure, if tuna casserole sounds agreeable to you, Cyrus," Barbara replies.  
  
    "Oh, sure, sure," I nod rapidly, trying not to imagine her feeding it to me directly.  
  
    "Let's go to my room," Terry says abruptly, motioning for me to follow.  
  
    "Aw, but we're still getting to know each other!" Benjamin objects.  
  
    "We can do that at dinner," Terry counters, motioning me more hurriedly. I follow him. His room's a little messy, though not as much as mine. He's got some video game posters on the wall and some action figures arranged around his desk. "Sorry, I just wanted to get away from them before they said anything to scare you off."  
  
    "They seem nice, though?" I scratch my head.  
  
    "Ben's really, uh... gregarious," Terry mumbles. "It can be a bit much. And Barbie can be overbearing. She'll probably ask you like fifty questions at dinner."  
  
    "She's kinda hot," I blurt out.  
  
    Terry narrows one eye. "She's my _sister_." I shrug with a sheepish grin. I let out a terse yelp as Terry suddenly starts to take off his shirt. "What?"  
  
    "Oh, uh, nothin'," I let out a nervous chuckle as I see he's got another shirt underneath. He rubs his now exposed arms. Really, unless you're looking for them, his scars are actually pretty hard to see. He sits on his bed.  
  
    "So, you really think I should wait a year before going to do anything, huh?" Terry muses. I sit down by him.  
  
    "Yeah, dude, I mean, we got time, right? We're still young," I chuckle. "Heck, I think I'd need a year to figure myself out too. See where I'm going. See if I can do something besides flipping bug burgers." I pat him on the shoulder.  
  
    It happens kind of fast, but Terry leans in and gives me a little nudge with his head. That cat-like thing. It's coupled with a little purr. Without thinking I respond by licking his forehead. He chuckles. It's really kind of a cute sound. I feel like my tail might be wagging a little.  
  
    Then I kinda...  
  
    Uh, I give him a little kiss, right on his- I think I _meant_ to aim for his nose, but it- yeah, it was definitely on his lips. I mean, no big deal, right? We're best friends, and I'm definitely- ah jeez. He's looking at me all curiously now. He's surprised, but he doesn't seem offended. He finally smiles a little, then he laughs. I think I must have a  _really_ stupid look on my face.  
  
    "What was that?" Terry titters.  
  
    "I dunno, uh... just a little br- bro kiss," I shrug. That didn't sound too masculine. "You know, for friends. I mean, heh, you told me you weren't gay or anything, haha..."  
  
    Terry chuckles. "I did say that, but... I think might be bisexual."  
  
    I laugh in a really, really strained tone. "Ah, right! Of course, Terry! Yeah... that's great- just... just keep all those options open, right?"  
  
    Awkward silence comes next. For quite a long time. Then he kind of cuddles against my front with his back? My arms cross in front of him without me directly telling them to do that. It's... I dunno, it's nice. He starts purring.  
  
    "So yeah, I... I dunno what all this is, I have to admit..." I chuckle. It's getting harder to be nervous, though. Seems like Terry's okay with it. And he sure is cute...  
  
    "I dunno either," Terry's voice is content and he speaks between purrs. "But I like it." I scratch his cheek a little, just offhandedly, and he leans into it, purring louder. Ah jeez... I drop my hand again. Is this really happening?  
  
    "Dinner!" Barbara's voice yells out. The spell's broken and Terry gets up, and I join them for dinner.  
  
    At dinner I try not to make like anything weird is going on, even though Terry keeps sneaking me these furtive little glances and smiles. I've never seen him so consistently happy, and it's like... it's a good thing.  
  
    "Any big plans for college?" Barbara asks me.  
  
    "Oh no, just... keeping options open," I try not to babble. Terry chuckles.  
  
    "Me too, I think I need a while to figure things out," Terry nods. Boy, I'm starting to think that this has kind of a double meaning.  
  
    "Right, just take your time with it," Benjamin says. He seems like a kind guy. I wonder what he does at the police station. Guidance counseling?  
  
    Eventually, dinner's over and I want to get back home. Terry stops me outside of the door to the apartment.  
  
    "Hey um..." he looks anxious. "Things aren't gonna be weird now between us, are they?"  
  
    "I- I don't think so," I shake my head. After a small pause, he tries another tiny little kiss on me. I laugh nervously and I feel like my heart's pounding, but try to keep a smile on. He looks so happy and cute. I feel like I could get used to seeing him like that more often. And if it'd only take a few kisses...  
  
    His shoulders bounce up in a shrug. "Just trying it out again." I see his eyes dart downward. Uh oh, is my tail wagging? I look back as well and it seems still, but I saw a swish of movement.  
  
    "G'night, Terry, I'll catch you later, okay?" I say. I really don't know what to add to it. He gives a sort of relieved breath, I think, and he heads back into his place.  
  
    I barely say hi to my parents when I get home and my thoughts are racing when I flop onto my bed.  
  
    Do I... am I Terry's boyfriend now? I know I'm his _best_ friend, but..  
  
    My thoughts slow down when I finally have a little bit of a realization: I want Terry to be happy. He  _is_ my best friend.  
  
    I've seen his butt before, too. I gotta admit, it is pretty cute.  
  
    Ah, freakin' _jeez_. I'm thinking about his butt now.


	10. Vivian Reddish

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Vivian is perhaps the first character I created for Zootopia's world. She's appeared frequently in the "Partners" series, including "Partners: Revisited". She also shows up in the "Different Tail" entitled "Wrong".

    " _Mom_...!"  
  
    I groan, my paw reaching into the air as if to pat an alarm clock, but I yawn and bring the paw over my face. Beyond Avery, Catherine's head pops up and she winces.  
  
    "Which one do you think she means?" I mumble tiredly, rubbing my eyes.  
  
    "Well, it's my _turn..._ " Catherine yawns, sitting up and stretching.  
  
    "Oh, you can sleep in," I grumble warmly, though I really do want to stay in bed too. "It's your day off."  
  
    "Thanks," Catherine mumbles; she flops back into bed, nestling up against our silver fox, who is most definitely not asleep anymore but is still pretending to be.  
  
    Sunday's "our" day. The day for our whole family, where we all have off work and school and can just be together. However, the struggle must always continue.  
  
    I slip on a nightgown and shuffle my way out of the upstairs master bedroom, wondering what has annoyed our daughter this time. She's standing outside of the bathroom. She's a lovely little twelve year old 'smokey fox'. Her coat is a fetching tawny gray, she has her father's yellow-brown eyes and a reddish stripe on her back. She does look like she has a little bit of all three of us in her...  
  
    "What is it, Cindy?" I yawn the last syllable of her name.  
  
    "Alex's locked himself up in the bathroom again! I want to take a shower...!" She looks at me desperately to right this wrong while she gestures at the bathroom, as if it was a matter of critical importance.  
  
    "My  _name_ is _Shadow_!" Alex's voice calls from the bathroom.  
  
    "Technically," I say, knocking on the door twice, "your middle name is 'Shade', mister. What are you doing in there?"  
  
    "Gathering supplies for my superhero mission!" Alex replies.  
  
    " _Ugh_!" Cindy rolls her eyes so hard I think she might strain them. "Mom, can I  _please_ destroy him?" She looks at me with this adorably plaintive, harried face.  
  
    "You may not destroy your brother," I instruct.  
  
    "Fine...!" there goes another eye roll.  
  
    "Let your sister use the bathroom, Alex," I knock on the door again.  
  
    "She takes _forever_!" Alex wails.  
  
    "If you don't have to go, you get out of that bathroom, little fox," I try to put as much sternness as I can into my voice for this vital, never-ending conflict. Finally, Alex emerges from the bathroom.  
  
    Alex is a fairly rare color morph between a red fox and silver fox pairing. He's called a "cross fox", and he looks very much like Avery, mostly with black fur where red foxes have white. The difference is he still has some bright orange fur dusting and accenting his coat. He stands out very much with his unusual colors, and he has my blue eyes. My son also is wearing a towel like a cape and wielding a discarded toilet paper roll. He's ten years old.  
  
    My son flips his "cape" over himself dramatically. It's poorly-tied and almost comes apart at this motion. He grins mischeviously. Very unlike Avery, Alex thinks being a rare color morph is the coolest thing in the world, and fancies himself a superhero during his imaginative playtime activities.  
  
    "I am the terror that prowls in the night!" he bursts out energetically, looking at his sister, who's already half-lidding her eyes in the type of icy disparaging look that she must have learned from Catherine. "I am the shadow that creeps up on the light! I am Darkshadow Fox!"  
  
    Cindy folds her arms decisively. "You're lucky mom won't let me destroy you, or I'd uppercut you to Mars." She shakes a fist to add weight to her threat.  
  
    Alex gasps dramatically, flailing back. "You know my secret origin place! We must duel!"  
  
    "Okay, no one's going to be doing any dueling," I say. "Cindy, go." Cindy throws her brother an irritated scoff and holes up in the bathroom.  
  
    My son looks up at me with a bright grin. "What'd you think of my superhero intro, red mom?" I'm 'red mom' to him, usually. Cat's 'gray mom'. Sometimes I get 'tall mom', though I think my favorite is when Cat gets 'loud mom'. She promptly fulfills the spirit of that one as she tries to insist it should not be used.  
  
    "I think you've been watching a few too many cartoons, mister," I chide him playfully, giving him a ruffle on his head. "Why're you walking around with garbage anyway, Alex?"  
  
    "It's a hyper telescope!" Alex insists, holding it up. "Only cause dad won't let me use his binoculars."  
  
    "Well, they  _are_ very expensive, and you broke the last thing he gave you to play with," I remind him.  
  
    "Yeah, yeah..." Alex looks guilty, "so... hyper telescope."  
  
    "Very well," I chuckle, "go play. I'm making pancakes for breakfast."  
  
    " _Pancakes_!?" Alex's eyes light up. "The source of my power!" With how much syrup he tends to dump on them, I suppose he's not wrong.  
  
    As I fix breakfast I think about Alex a little. I thought it might be "enough" to have Cindy in our lives at one point, but Avery and Cathy just love her so much; I eventually asked if we could try one more. This time, Cat insisted I be the one to carry our next kit. There was a little scientific wizardry involved with Cindy's birth, and Cat actually carried her, though Cindy is still a product of Avery and me. She said I should know the joy of carrying my own child.  
  
    I kind of thought she was kidding, perhaps. I thought maybe she just didn't want to put all of us through the stress of getting science involved again, especially Avery. I even joked that she just wanted to see me with breasts this time. Despite all the teasing though, and the predictable unpleasantness that comes from being pregnant, I don't think I would have traded it back to Catherine now that I've experienced it myself. It was quite a wonder to birth Alex and be able to feed him myself. Of course, my mates continue to be so supportive of me, sometimes I just feel really, really blessed. Undeservedly so. But no, now's not the time to get down for no reason. Now's the time to make pancakes.  
  
    I set the pancakes, syrup, and butter down and Avery sets the places at the table. He smiles at me when doing so, giving me a small kiss as we brush by each other. His tail furtively curls around my ankles and I giggle. We try to get all this over with before the kits arrive. Alex is at the "eww!" stage when it comes to seeing parental affection.    
  
    Having heard there was going to be pancakes, Alex is the first to the table, followed by the freshly-showered Cindy. Alex rubs his paws together with a slightly manic look on his face and immediately starts eating. He's a growing boy, after all.  
  
    Cindy clears her throat and stares daggers at her brother. She then looks at me. "Thank you for pancakes for breakfast, mom."  
  
    Alex looks like he's been caught stealing and his eyes flit between me and Cindy. "Umh... yah, thankoo." His mouth is still full. I can't help but chuckle.  
  
    "You're welcome, loves," I say. I've always found it a little interesting how Cindy differentiates her mothers. She pronounces "mom" with more of a short "o" sound when referring to me, and a soft "a" sound, almost like "ma'am", when speaking about Catherine. It's subtle, but the difference seems to have popped up naturally, and we quickly adapted to it. Of course, that's when she's not screaming for either of us to intervene on her behalf, anyway.  
  
    "Alex," Avery says. "Since you're ten now, and I'm in a painting mood, I think it's time to paint your ten-year-old portrait."  
  
    "What!? Yes!" Alex looks as enthusiastic as if Avery just told him he'd buy him a car.  
  
    "Are you sure you can handle that, Alex?" Cindy cocks an eyebrow. "It's a lot of standing around. Dunno if you're up for that." Such sass! I'm pretty sure that's still Catherine's influence.  
  
    "Dad's gonna make me look _awesome_ ," Alex brags, "my portrait's gonna kick your portrait's tail!"  
  
    "Nobody's portraits are fighting each other," Catherine says automatically. Avery chuckles.  
  
    "Mom, after breakfast, would you join me for 'tea'?" Cindy is talking to me again.  
  
    "Are you sure you wouldn't rather have your other mother for that?" I ask, sipping some apple juice.  
  
    "I was part of the last story!" Catherine grins widely. "Oh it was so exciting! You should be a part of this one and see where it goes!" Cindy's "tea" is her new hobby, evolving out of a normal child's pretend tea time. Whereas she was more of a typical child growing up with cute, funny scenarios, now things are different. A lot of her "teatime" stories are decidedly dark and dangerous, full of intrigue, subplots, betrayals, and assassinations. I think Catherine's love of storytelling took root deep in her, and blossomed into something terrifying. Maybe she'll grow up to be a thriller novel writer? "C'mon Viv, I'll do the chores...!"  
  
    "Okay, I'd love to join you for 'tea'," I smile. "Any hint what the plot line's about this time?"  
  
    "You'll just have to see!" Cindy smiles.  
  
    So, after breakfast, I go up to my daughter's room. She already has the table set out, with various stuffed animals sitting around and the cups all laid out. There's even a couple of action figures there.  
  
    "Young lady, aren't these Alex's toys?" I point at a couple of the action figures. One of them is a dinosaur, a T-Rex.  
  
    "In the last story, the Agents of T led an insurrection against the Shadow Forces," Cindy says as casually as if she was a TV announcer doing a recap. "The battle was hard, but mom and I came to an agreement with the enemy commander and had an exchanging of prisoners of war. Mr. Dinosaur is one of those prisoners, and he's been indoctrinated into the Agents of T."  
  
    "Oh, of course," I say. I suppose this is what I get for having a librarian as a mate: a strangely precocious child. "So what's on the agenda today?"  
  
    "Today is Mr. Dinosaur's first meeting with the Agents of T," Cindy sets the dinosaur at the table. "But...!" she holds up a cutesy, soft and stylized pangolin plushie. "Ms. Pangolin doesn't like him."  
  
    "Why's that?" I ask.  
  
    "Because she's _evil_ ," is the cold reply. I try not to laugh. "You can be Ms. Pangolin."  
  
    "Gee, thanks," I'm still trying not to laugh.  
  
    "I'd like to thank the Agents of T for letting me into this meeting!" Cindy says in a nervous voice, jostling Mr. Dinosaur to indicate that he's talking. "I thought now that I'm a member, I could ask if we could get some cookies shipped to Dinoland."  
  
    "Never!" I say bombastically.  
  
    Cindy gasps in offense. "But, but Ms. Pangolin! Dinosaurs need cookies to _live_!"  
  
    "Wait, they do?" I interrupt. Cindy looks at me with mild exasperation.  
  
    "Well...! Uh," now she looks defensive. She shrugs. "We don't know that they _didn't_...?"  
  
    "I'm pretty sure there were no dinosaur bakers," I giggle.  
  
    "Anyway," Cindy shakes her head, "Ms. Pangolin! You can't embargo the cookies!"  
  
    "That's what you think, leather-skin!" I reply, "cookies are for mammals!"  
  
    Cindy gasps enormously. "How rude! Do you not have scales like my brethren!?"  
  
    I think very hard about everything I know about pangolins. "Um... our scales are made of keratin! They're completely different!"  
  
    "I say we let the dinosaur have his cookies..." Cindy makes an adorable bunny plushie speak next. She's using quite a snide, sinister voice, though.  
  
    "We can't do that! That's way too kind for a prisoner of war!" I object.  
  
    "Little did Ms. Pangolin know..." Cindy says conspiratorially. "Sir Bunbun is  _also_ evil. In fact, he's the most evil of all of the Agents of T!" She looks at me morosely. "He's probably going to poison the cookies."  
  
    "Dastardly," I shake my head.  
  
    This kind of thing goes on for awhile. I'm hoping Ms. Pangolin will get a chance to redeem herself, or at least discover Sir Bunbun's evil plot and one-up him, but that will probably have to wait for another episode.  
  
    "Mom?" Cindy asks me as she's putting away her things. "Do you think I could invite my friends over next weekend?"  
  
    "...Uh," I hesitate. "I'll think about it."  
  
    Cindy's expression falls and her ears go back. "That always means 'no', mom..."  
  
    "I mean, do you want to go  _out_ with them?" I smile in conciliation. "We could go somewhere nice, the park... maybe even a  _theme_ park! Wouldn't you like that?"  
  
    "I want them to come here," Cindy insists. "They know about the Agents of T, and they want to play too. I play with them sometimes at lunch. They have their own characters and everything! They wanna come here where all the action is."  
  
    I continue to think about how I want to handle this. "Okay... s-sure, honey. Let's see... would you like me or your other mother to be out at the time?"  
  
    "Why?" Cindy seems to have that baffled tone of near-disgust. She's going to be an interesting teenager, that's for sure.  
  
    "Well... sweetie, because," I sit down on her bed. "Because you have an unusual family, that's all."  
  
    "Yeah, cause Alex is in it," Cindy smirks.  
  
    "No, honey, no," I manage not to laugh. "Because you have two mothers and a father."  
  
    "...So?" Cindy shrugs. "Roger, this guy in my class? He has two moms."  
  
    "Well, I just... I don't want you to be made fun of by your friends, that's all," I smile, swallowing.  
  
    "Mom, if they'd make fun of me for something like that, they would  _not_ be my friends," she says decisively. The way this child can swing her words like a blade...  
  
    "All right sweetheart," I say gently. "We can give that a try."  
  
    "Yes!" Cindy pumps both fists and leaps at me for a hug. "Thank you! I'm glad you're not evil like Ms. Pangolin."  
  
    "Um, you're welcome," I chuckle, petting her back a little. "I'm glad I'm not evil either." I sigh slowly.  
  
    After the exciting adventures of the Agents of T, I stretch and go down to Avery's studio to see what he's up to. He already has Alex there, who is posed brightly with two toy katanas in his hands. I stifle a chuckle. Alex is trying to strike a cool pose, I'm sure, but he just looks cute to me. I wonder how long he'll be able to hold it.  
  
    "That's it, just hold that pose, Al," Avery smiles.  
  
    "Kay! How long?" Alex asks.  
  
    "Oh I dunno, long enough for me to get the flow of motion and outline done, maybe an hour?" Avery half-smiles.  
  
    "An _hour_?" Alex looks horrified, and I laugh. Catherine comes in to see what the commotion is about and her eyes go wide. She sets down the laundry basket she's carrying and thrusts her paws into her hips.  
  
    "What!? No, come on!" Catherine gestures at our son. "Avery, are you really going to let him hold swords while you paint him?"  
  
    Avery looks to me and smiles. "Sure! Don't see why not." Catherine stares at me.  
  
    "Viv?" Catherine frowns.  
  
    I shrug. "If it's what he wants, it's what he wants." I wiggle my index finger at her. "Once he's older, he'll probably look back at it and laugh. Either that or he'll be utterly embarrassed by it. Either way, we kind of win, don't we?"  
  
    "Pff," Catherine laughs and rolls her eyes, "I guess you're right. _Fine_ , he can hold his little swords. If anyone can make a ten-year-old holding toy swords look artful, it's you, Avery." Catherine kisses him on top of the head, making Alex narrow one eye.  
  
    "That's my intent," Avery smiles brightly and his tail giving a little swish of delight.      
  
    "Eww," Alex comments, one of his eyes narrowing and his lip curling upwards.  
  
    The rest of the day passes quite nicely. Avery takes a break from painting to make us some sandwiches; that fox is a wizard with a paintbrush but his sandwiches are only _okay_ , to be honest. However in the evening, Catherine makes us a delicious shrimp scampi dish with a rice pilaf and Caesar salad. I have a feeling she reads cookbooks on her downtime at work; dinner is mouth-watering.  
  
    All five of us are watching TV out in the living room when Catherine suddenly perks up and snaps her fingers.  
  
    "I know," she says, "let's all go out and get some ice cream!"  
  
    "Ice cream!?" Alex jerks ramrod straight like he's been shocked.  
    "Did you say 'ice cream'?" Cindy says simultaneously, sitting up from her slouched position on the couch; instantly her attention is captured.  
  
    "Uh," I look at the time. The sun's gone down, so I suppose animals with poorer sight are probably indoors by now. "I mean, I guess we _could_..."  
  
    "Please big mom?" Alex trains his big blue eyes on me; he's using my own eyes against me!  
    "Please?" Cindy agrees, making her yellow-brown eyes as large as they can be. The two are incredibly powerful when they work together, and I have to turn my muzzle slightly so as not to explode into a smile from their plaintive begging.  
  
    "Okay, sure," I relent.  
  
    "Woo!" My kits both shout out for joy and high-five each other. I'm glad the little pleasures of life make them happy. Avery gets up.  
  
    "Are you coming too?" Cathy asks him.  
  
    He hesitates for a moment, but then nods. "Sure. I could go for some vanilla ice cream."  
  
    "Vanilla's _boring_ ," Alex notes in a challenging voice. "I want chocolate.  _Dark_ chocolate." He grins maliciously.  
  
    "You may not have dark chocolate," I stipulate, "that's very bad for foxes. You may have  _white_ chocolate."  
  
    "What?" Alex's eyebrows turn up. "Aw, but white chocolate is like... the  _opposite_ of dark chocolate."  
  
    "We're raising a genius," Catherine says dryly, putting on a coat.  
  
    "Cat...!" I narrow my eyes, but Cindy is already laughing. Alex doesn't seem offended.  
  
    To this day, our family doesn't own a car, so we take the subway. We're headed to Fox Ice Cream Joint, an ice cream parlor run by a grumpy little fennec fox. Going out at night and heading to a place that serves our own kind, I figure it will give us the least chance of ridicule.  
  
    My children are happy, teasing each other on the way. Alex shares in Cindy's joy as she gets a rare character she wanted from some sort of emuji-matching game she likes to play on her phone. The two are so sweet. Such typical, normal little kits. Avery's sitting between us, so I scoot in a bit closer to him. I'm still a little wary of showing affection to him in public, though we're both red foxes. Of the three of the adults, he's the one that gets the hurt most by people being nasty to us. He's a sweetheart, and it's clear his children carry that part of him as well.  
  
    I try not to let my feelings tread back to the darkness, but they do anyway. My family... my mates and my children... it's more than I deserve.  
  
    I feel like a pulled a fast one on life. I was born to the Reddish family, owners of one of the biggest predator-owned orchards in Bunnyburrow. I loved the city, not the farm life. I thought it was so interesting how there are so many different kinds of animals in Zootopia, from big to small, clad in fur or skin. I mean, there are interesting people in Bunnyburrow too, but they live so far apart from each other. There are also lots of bunnies. If you like to see bunnies, you should go to Bunnyburrow. It will exceed your expectations.  
  
    Even if I was in Bunnyburrow with Avery, with a "typical" husband and 2.5 kits... I know I wouldn't be as happy as I am now. And I am happy, but every so often guilt comes creeping in. I hid the fact that I was polyamorous for all of my parents' lives. I knew they were narrow-minded and set in their ways. The "old" way of thinking. After they scolded me for finding out I was living with Avery without being married to him, I knew it was pointless to try to explain things to them about how I was really living my life. I'm surprised they didn't catch Catherine that time they showed up unannounced; I think she jumped out a window and into a tree to make her escape. Gray foxes are actually very good tree-climbers.  
  
    We're in the ice cream parlor and placing our orders. Cindy gets some rainbow sherbet; that's my favorite too, so I go ahead and follow suit. Alex makes a final plea for dark chocolate chip, but he gets white chocolate. Avery likes his vanilla, and Cat likes strawberry. Catherine can sense I'm in one of my moods and she subtly squeezes my paw and looks up at me. I nod slightly and she returns the gesture. I don't want to elaborate on the issue now and spoil our nice night out. That is, if it remains that way.  
  
    I eat my sherbet thoughtfully. I sold the Reddish Orchard to another red fox family, the Greys. I took the money and ran, like a thief. Like a sneaky fox. I have an enviable house, especially for a predator living in Downtown Zootopia. I have the heirlooms, the seven golden rings with each one having a different color of the rainbow. I took everything from my family and gave back nothing; starting my own family from their ashes.  
  
    I take in a shaky breath and let it out slowly.  
  
    "You okay, mom?" Cindy asks, looking concerned. I smile, nodding, pushing the feelings aside. This is nothing to discuss with her, not with one so young. My smile gets easier to hold as I realize that in some ways, she's not like me. She's bold, unafraid of her differences, of her muted gray coat and her three parents. Alex is the same way. He's proud of his unusual coloration and he's a really sweet, sensitive kit when it comes down to it. The two got the best of Catherine and Avery. I suppose the best I can do is to reinforce those good points and keep them on that path.  
  
    Sometimes I wonder where Karma's scales have me balanced. Does she mind that I sold my inheritance? Are my children a reward for the ridicule I've endured? Or is my lingering self-deprecating my punishment enough for doing what I've done. Catherine doesn't believe in Karma, of course, and I only barely do. Avery's painted her before, just as an experiment. She did look quite beautiful, but also judgemental. I suppose that's how she's supposed to be.  
  
    We get back home... and nothing happened. We didn't get any weird looks, heck, I think Alex actually waved at a giraffe couple and they waved back. The giraffes looked like they were fussing over us as we walked away. As usual, I've been worried for nothing.  
  
    I've had my fruit stand burned down before. I know hatred exists in Zootopia. I suppose I shouldn't expect it to come though. I shouldn't let things get to me before they've even crossed the starting line. I shouldn't deadbolt the door before I even ask who's on the other side.  
  
    It takes awhile for the kits to feel like going to bed because they've been freshly sugared, so we let them stay up a little bit later. Catherine says she would be all too happy to wake them up bright and early for school. Alex decides to go to bed right after that, while Cindy lingers. I suppose she thinks she's older and more mature. We'll see who's dragging their paws in the morning.  
  
    My mates and I get into our room and disrobe, ending in nothing but our fur. I kiss both of my mates earnestly in turn; I crave their affection. The feeling of their lips against mine and the warmth of their embraces tells me they know how I'm feeling and want to assuage my darker thoughts. They take me to bed and let me lay in the middle this time, giving me some pets and cuddles. It takes awhile, but I feel myself relax.  
  
    "Which of the rings do you think the kits will want?" Catherine starts up conversation to calm the mood, as usual. We've decided to let the kits have one of the rainbow rings on their fifteenth birthday.  
  
    "I think Alex will probably want the darkest ring out of the rest of them, the sapphire," Avery says softly. He wears the amethyst.  
  
    "I can't predict which one Cindy might want," Catherine muses. "Maybe the emerald?" She giggles. "Once they have their rings, there are still two left..."  
  
    "Uh uh," I start to laugh. "Two kits is plenty for me. I don't know how 'normal' families do it with only two parents."  
  
    "That's certainly true," Cathy shares in my laughing. Avery chuckles gently. We start to calm down again and I sigh.  
  
    "Cindy wants to bring her friends over next weekend," I say.  
  
    "Oh?" Catherine considers this. "Do you want me to do some errands that day?"  
  
    "She said she'd rather we all were here," I say.  
  
    "You're afraid her friends will think she has a weird family," Avery says, gently stroking my midsection.  
  
    "Are _we_ really the strange ones?" Catherine has a wry scowl. "Cindy is the one that comes up with all of those terrifying tea-based conspiracies."  
  
    I laugh lightly at this and scratch at her chin. She leans into this and lays her head on my chest.  
  
    "I think we're doing good," Avery says, petting Cathy's back. "We're doing good."  
  
    "No we're not," Catherine grumbles, her eyes closed. "We're doing _well_."  
  
    "Oh, right, sorry," Avery chuckled.  
  
    I sigh contentedly, shutting my own eyes.  
  
    I reflect on everything I've been through, and the joy our kits have brought to our lives.  
  
    My last thought before I drop off is that, yeah, we are. We _are_ doing good.  
  
    Er, "well".

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next work in this chronology is a Different Tail entitled "Atypical".


	11. Itachi Hotaru

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This character comes from a passing mention in the "Different Tail" entitled "Initiation", which stars the Musteladies clique, contemporaries of the squirrel Larry.

    My name is Itachi Hotaru.  
  
    I wake up early in the morning and prepare to go to school. I get my education at Squeakendale High. A school full of rodents, mustelids, and other small creatures. Those that would be easily trampled on by the larger animals of this world, yet those still twice or more the size of the inhabitants of Little Rodentia.  
  
    Of the students of Squeakendale High, I am the only Anihonese marten I know of.  
  
    In Anihon, we are fairly common. We have golden orange fur, a white mask marked with black streaks near our eyes and nose, and chocolate brown paws.  
  
    Legally speaking, I am not Anihonese. When my parents were young, they emigrated to Zootopia, and I was born there. From a young age, I learned both Anihonese and Mammalian, the common language of Zootopia. I can speak both with very little accent.  
  
    I do not get to use my bilingual capabilities too often, as few in Zootopia speak Anihonese. My mother still has trouble with Mammalian and so sometimes our conversations drift inbetween the two languages. I'm still trying to teach her.  
  
    As I get ready for the day, I put on my usual clothes. They are nothing special, but I do tend to pick colors that contrast my fur. My outfit is completed by my favorite item, a navy blue scarf. I wear it proudly around my neck and smile.  
  
    I speak to my mother before going to school. Father has already left for work. She tells me to behave, to be respectful to my teachers, and she fixes my scarf to her liking. I give a respectful bow and smile as I talk to her.  
  
    My voice is squeaky and cute, a frequent hazard of being a small mammal. A desirable quality in Anihon, to be sure, but here in Zootopia it is sometimes hard to be taken seriously.  
  
    I bid my mother farewell and head off to school. On the way, I grin as my high school looms in the background, and pull up the fringe of my scarf so it covers my nose and mouth. The smell of the fabric is familiar to me, and I half-smile.  
  
    Let's go.  
  
    First period is math. A perfect subject to start with to actuate the mind and prepare it for the trials of the day. The teacher, however, is a substitute, and I mildly dread when he gets to my name. The thirty-something squirrel looks from behind his glasses and calls for attendance..  
  
    "Hot... er... hot-are... hot-are-oo?" The substitute is having trouble even making it past my given name.  
  
    I stand up suddenly, but smoothly.  
  
    "Kunoichi," I say. My voice is hushed and in a lower register than my natural voice. It is voice I have practiced. A voice laced with mystery and intrigue. I smirk from behind my scarf as I have caught the attention of some of my classmates who know the game that is to be played.  
  
    "Pardon me?" The squirrel teacher tilts his head.  
  
    "I am called 'Kunoichi'," I say again.  
  
    "Okay then," the squirrel teacher blinks. "...Young lady, should you be wearing a scarf like that in class?"  
  
    The answer to this question is "no". However, answering him would be a sign of weakness. I say nothing.  
  
    He shakes his head. "Whatever". I sit down, my mouth a bright smile behind my scarf. He continues taking roll, and I get a few smiles from my classmates.  
  
    I am somewhat glad there are very few other Anihonese animals at this school other than a momonga or two. They would find my insistence on being called Kunoichi quite ridiculous indeed. As it is, I believe the only reason I am not ridiculed for it is because of the company I keep.  
  
    After first period, I am walking through the hallways when I am spotted by a marmot administrator.  
  
    "Ah ah...!" He points at me. "Kunoichi-" he is to about the third syllable before I lower my scarf and smile at him. "Better..." I look back at him, and as soon as he's out of sight, I cover my nose and mouth again.  
  
    I am accosted by three of my close associates. The Leading Ladies.  
  
    Kara Pedshark. Ferret of honey and white. Gentle eyes and demeanor, finished with hot pink glasses. Guarded, shy posture.  
  
    Heather Mine. A white stoat. Serene eyes contrasting a firm expression. Her body language is slightly aggressive, but not confrontational.  
  
    Princess Weaselton. A least weasel. A tasteful amount of lavender eye shadow compliments her regal, confident smile. Everything about her expresses her self-assured nature. And not for nothing; she is my leader. The leader of the clique known as the Musteladies.  
  
    "Kunoichi!" Princess greets me grandiosely with open arms and a loud voice. "I was hoping we'd run into you."  
  
    "Princess-hime," I give a respectful nod. Kara covers her mouth with her paw and giggles. I look at her as if to question this, but my mouth is a hidden grin. She is a wise ferret.  
  
    "Why do you always laugh when she calls me that?" Princess turns to look at Kara.  
  
    "Well, 'hime' is an honorific, like ma'am or miss," Kara explains. "But..." she giggles again. "Hime means lady or princess. She's calling you 'Princess Princess'."  
  
    "What's wrong with that!?" Princess shrugs exaggeratedly, making Kara laugh again and even Heather gives a clearly amused huff. I manage to avoid laughing and straighten up.  
  
    "Do you have need of me?" I ask. My voice is still low in pitch. Even when talking to Princess, I am Kunoichi. This is the role I have chosen to play at my school, and it's one I enjoy very much.  
  
    "We actually do," Princess nods. "We need for you to figure out who's been leaving notes in Heather's locker."  
  
    "It's getting kind of embarrassing," Heather admits, looking off to the side.  
  
    "It happens at least twice a day," Kara notes, "but we haven't been able to catch them in the act."  
  
    "Can you get me a pic of whoever's doing it?" Princess asks.  
  
    "So you command, so it shall be done," I say resolutely, holding two fingers of one paw near my face.  
  
    Princess smiles patiently. "Kunoichi, do you have to be so dramatic?"  
  
    "I do not, and yet, I do," I smile with my eyes. Princess grins, pleased, Heather pushes her muzzle toward me in affirmation, and Kara gives a friendly wave.  
  
    I set about my task without delay. Checking on Heather's locker, it appears untouched. I shall return to it next period.  
  
    Second period is biology. The meerkat teacher doesn't seem to mind if I wear my scarf as a mask lately. She did at first, but stopped seeming to care after awhile. I do not apologize for my eccentricities, but I will follow the direction to remove my scarf if I am ordered. ...Only for as long as that person is around, though.  
  
    I return to the hallway containing Heather's locker after second period and-  
  
    What's this!? My eyes widen in alarm.  
  
    A note is peeking out of the locker's door! Impossible! My eyes squint as I dart my eyes around to look for the perpetrator. It's too late; no one around looks suspicious.  
  
    My quarry must have made some sort of excuse to temporarily leave class to deliver the note. I casually walk up to the locker and furtively take a picture with my phone. I've become an expert at taking decent pictures without having to look through the phone. After I take the picture, I pocket my phone and smoothly swipe up the note. Taking it into a less-populated hallway, I read it.  
  
    The language is heartfelt, though the note is somewhat terse. It extols a few of Heather's virtues. Most subjective, but based in fact. The desire to get to know Heather better is expressed, though the author admits they remain shy. Nothing in here seems to be useful to me, so I fold the note back up as it was and carefully replace it as it appeared in the picture. My activities are not noticed.  
  
    It's clear I'm going to need to improve my game if I am to fulfill my mission.  
  
    Pulling my scarf down, I decide to check out of school early for the day and check into the attendance office. I am old enough that I can do this for myself, no permission needed.  
  
    No, I am not giving up. I'm not even actually leaving. Kunoichi is leaving, but I will remain.  
  
    You may think it somewhat ridiculous that a brightly-furred, rather unique-looking marten is the top spy for the Musteladies. With my bold fur color and my scarf, I am actually perhaps the  _most_ conspicuous mammal on campus in the common situation.  
  
    It is a fair assessment.  
  
    But I am not Kunoichi. That is merely the role I have chosen to play, the character I've developed to amuse both myself and my friends.  
  
    I am Itachi Hotaru, and I am a _shinobi_.  
  
    Shinobi, ninja, there are many words for them. Kunoichi is one as well, for a female. They have become popularized in culture recently for their fame and alleged fantastical abilities. As Kunoichi, I reinforce the more laughable of the behaviors befitting a ninja. It is my role. I play the game well.  
  
    But I am descended from the Anihonese marten, and I have the blood of the shinobi running through me.  
  
    They really did exist, but not in the romanticized and fantastic forms modern popular culture would have you believe. They were, however, spies. They were slick, quick, and careful. They served masters and they won wars with information before they could be won with swords and bows. And martens were some of the best.  
  
    As Kunoichi checks out of school, I loop around campus and carefully find my way to the girls locker room near the gym. It is in the middle of third period. I am not spotted. Excellent.  
  
    There is a saying among the Anihonese, regarding shinobi. "The fox has seven disguises, the tanuki has eight, and the marten has nine."  
  
    I have found this to be true. According to my research of the shinobi, the fox, tanuki, and marten were often favored for their sneaky natures, and the marten was favored most of all for their small size and ability to easily eavesdrop and get into tiny places.  
  
    However, I discovered that when it comes to Zootopia, "disguises" are even easier to come up with. There is a great variety of mustelids in this city, and they look very similar when one doesn't take fur color into account.  
  
    I get to my gym locker and pull out the fresh set of clothes inside. These clothes cover more of my fur and are snug around my neck. I take off my scarf and put it in the locker. My most identifiable feature has been removed. I change into the new clothes, and collect two bottles of fur dye from the locker. This type of fur dye will wash out quickly, but I only need it briefly.  
  
    A splash of black on my tail. Golden fur becomes black. I mess with my tail to fray the fur a little.  
  
    A few dabs of white around my face, carefully. More on my paws.  
  
    To finish up, I spray myself with a subtly-scented scent-blocker, a perfectly typical one for a teenage mustelid. It will help mask both my natural scent and the smell of the temporary fur dye.  
  
    I look into the mirror I have affixed to my locker room door, scrutinizing myself. Kunoichi is completely gone, and so is Hotaru.  
  
    "My name's Harriet," I say in my normal voice. It's a bit too cutesy. I repeat the phrase in a slightly lower tone after humming to get into a range I'm comfortable with. There we go. I say a few more practice sentences to nail down the voice so it's not too close to Kunoichi's. My transformation is complete. I am a completely normal, average stoat wearing purposefully dull clothes so as not to attract attention.  
  
    Now, I must return to my mission.  
  
    By the time the next bell rings, I'm out and mingling with my fellow students as Harriet. To the best of my knowledge, no one notices me, which is exactly how this should go. I plan a route that heads back to Heather's locker. A second note has not been left; I hope that it will. When classes begin, I'm heading toward the restroom. I have a circuitous route where I will  _almost_ enter several classrooms to and from the nearest restroom, in case I am caught. However, I'm beneath everyone's notice.  
  
    It's times like this I wish I still had my scarf on, because I really want to smile in satisfaction. But that's Kunoichi's job. Harriet is a completely normal student with a normal, even face, and-  
  
    "Uph!" This is roughly the sound I make as a chinchilla runs straight into me.  
  
    "Oh, jeez, sorry!" The chinchilla chuckles. I manage to keep my balance. I shake my head as if to collect my wits.  
  
    "No trouble at all," I fight the urge to give a placating nod. My voice is pretty much perfect.  
  
    "I'm always running into people; I'm really sorry about that," the chinchilla chuckles. His name is Chet. He knows Kunoichi as a passing acquaintance. Or maybe a "colliding" acquaintance. He's run into her three times before.  
  
    "Oh really, it's fine," I smile, barely showing my teeth. It's more my natural smile, Hotaru's smile. His nose twitches and he nods enthusiastically.  
  
    "Okay, catch you later!" Chet waves and heads off.  
  
    Now I  _really_ want to let my grin twist with pride. Chinchillas may be silly, puffy, unusually cute rodents, but they can really move; they would make good shinobi. Yet Chet did not notice me. I'm threatening to get caught up in my own thoughts, but-  
  
    Movement toward the locker! I carefully change my route to spot the mammal to see if they are my target. I cannot help a breath from coming in sharply, but I fight to keep my face neutral.  
  
    I know this mammal.  
  
    An otter. A little larger than me, but small for an otter. Her face is usually earnest, but right now it looks anxious. She's carefully arranging the note in Heather's locker. Fussily, she arranges the note for a bit. She does not seem to relax once she places the note and continues to look around worriedly.  
  
    It's too late; I've caught her with my eyes and on my phone. I duck around the corner.  
  
    Briefly, I try to ponder the ramifications of  _this_ otter being the one leaving notes for Heather. I start to walk away and my pulse involuntarily rises as the otter rounds the corner.  
  
    Time seems to slow the moment she passes me. I barely, barely allow my eyes to sweep to the side to watch her. I try not to breathe as I walk by her.  
  
    She knows me; she knows Kunoichi.  
  
    But I am not Kunoichi, not now.  
  
    She passes me without even turning her head or eyes. I start to head back to the locker room. There's nothing like the feeling of a totally successful mission, and Harriet has performed her job admirably.  
  
    It's time to become Kunoichi again. I allow myself a huge, satisfied smile.  
  
    After I change my form, I text Princess and ask her to meet me after the last bell. She is barely surprised that I have finished my task so expediently, and asks if I can just send her the picture. I request to meet up with her in person. She understands and says she will oblige me.  
  
    For the rest of the day I hide out between the bleachers in the outdoor track. There is at least one Mustelady that shares a class with me in all of my classes. With this advantage, it will be a trivial matter to catch up on my studies and collect assignments from the classes I have missed. My mother has come to expect good grades of me, and I will provide them.  
  
    Thinking of both my mother and Princess, I realize that I do not like to give anything but my best work. It almost becomes mundane and expected of both of them, but I know that on some level they share my pride. Especially in Princess' case, there is no better alternative than me for the work that needs to be done for the Musteladies.  
  
    My father says pride is a dragon; a powerful beast with body more serpentine than the most twisting of martens. It winds out from time immemorial, ravenous and strong; as it heads off into the future it threatens to devour those that cannot master it. I reflect on these words and resolve to keep my own pride of my culture, my clique, and myself, under my own control.  
  
    I hear chatter from familiar voices as they head past the bleachers. I have waited for this moment. I smoothly leap over the railing and land in a crouch next to Princess, Kara, and Heather. I straighten up and dramatically sweep my paw across me, holding two fingers near my muzzle. A big smirk hides behind my scarf. At my entrance, Kara closed her eyes in delight and claps four times demurely near her face. Heather barely looks at me, but as she does, her muzzle ever so slightly begins to pique into a smile.  
  
    "Oh!" Princess starts a bit from my sudden appearance. "Kunoichi! Good of you to 'drop in'! Get it?" Princess pokes Kara with her elbow and the ferret giggles. Heather rolls her eyes and folds her arms, but she smirks with less reservation. My eyes slightly betray my smile, I am sure. "You've finished your mission so _fast_ , Kunoichi! Okay, let's hear it."  
  
    "Princess-hime, I would prefer to speak to you alone," I say in Kunoichi's voice. Kara instantly seems to deduce that there is a problem.  
  
    "Why?" Kara asks quickly. "This is about Heather, right? She deserves to know." Heather swallows, but nods subtly.  
  
    Princess looks at me with scrutiny. I hold my gaze steady. She silently comes to understand me, and flicks her hand.  
  
    "Girls, why don't you let me talk to our little ninja alone, huh?" Princess asks. "You know how dramatic she likes to make things. I'll catch up with you two in a few minutes."  
  
    Heather nods, and she and the ferret start to head off. Kara gives me a curious look from over her shoulder as she makes her exit.  
  
    "So, I'm guessing there's a reason you're being especially mysterious today?" Princess' voice has reproof to it, but in a warm way.  
  
    "Mm," I nod. "I have indeed captured evidence of who is leaving Heather notes."  
  
    "Well, out with it, then!" Princess rotates her hand at the wrist.  
  
    "It is one of our _own_ ," I narrow my eyes conspiratorially.  
  
    "What?" Princess flinches, clearly not expecting this. "You mean a Mustelady?"  
  
    "Mm!" I nod again. I bring my phone out, twirling it in a little flourish before showing Princess the picture. I cannot help myself sometimes.  
  
    "Wha-" Princess' jaw drops slightly. "That's Laura Lutraski, the newest Mustelady!" Princess looks at my pictures to make absolutely certain, then nods. "Huh..." she brings a curled claw up to her mouth; the wheels in her head are almost visibly turning.  
  
    "Orders?" I ask in a hushed voice.  
  
    "Okay," Princess says decisively, bringing her hands together hard and clasping them. "I want you to get to know Laura better and see if you can get anything from her on why she's leaving Heather these notes."  
  
    "Understood," I nod. "Shall I attempt to dissuade her from leaving said notes? As far as I know, Heather is not attracted to-"  
  
    "Just!" Princess interrupts me with a half-raised hand. "Just do ask I ask, all right Kunoichi?"  
  
    "Yes, Princess-hime," I bow.  
  
    She smiles. "Good work today, Kunoichi. I'll expect more information from you soon."  
  
    "And you will have it," I say resolutely. "Will that be all you need of me today?"  
  
    "Yes," Princess nods.  
  
    "Then I am gone!"  
  
    In a flash, I undo my scarf and throw it at Princess' face. She barely has time to squeak before I launch away, dashing through the middle of the two sets of bleachers and around the corner to hide. I try not to giggle, but it comes out quietly in hums.  
  
    "Aaack!" Princess paws at her face and removes the scarf. "Every time! Okay, Kunoichi, I _get it_! You're a freakin' _ninja_! Kunoichi?"  
  
    I've broken her line of sight and she doesn't know where I am. A silly grin is plastered all over my face. She'll give me the scarf back when she sees me tomorrow. She always does.  
  
    "I  _could_ just keep the scarf this time!" She warns me, as if reading my mind. She holds it up in her paw as if to threaten me with it. I am... still fairly certain she will give it back to me. I start to leave.  
  
    "Arigatou!" Princess calls out. You're welcome, my Princess.  
  
    I have a broad smile as I start to head home. Without my scarf, I cannot truly be Kunoichi, but that's okay, because I don't need to be. Not for the rest of the day, anyway.  
  
    I can feel the sun looming high in the sky behind me, warming my golden fur. A soft breezes rustles that same fur. Forces of the natural world contend with me, but in the middle of it all, I am joyful. I am at peace. I sigh with contentment.  
  
    "My name is Itachi Hotaru," I say to myself while I head home.  
  
    It's a cutesy voice, but it's my voice.


	12. Heather Mine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heather is one of the mustelid females (or, "Musteladies") that dates back to Larry's misadventures in the "Partners" series under the installments "School", "Separated" "at Odds" and "Summer".
> 
> She also shows up in the alternate timeline stories of Different Tails, notably "Kissed" and "Initiation". These all predate this chapter.

    I wake up in bed and stretch slowly, groaning. Getting out of bed, I do a few more stretches, these a bit more athletic. Looking at myself in the mirror, I can recognize the sleepy, but functional white stoat staring back at me. She smirks a little. It's nice to be able to sleep in on a spring Saturday.  
  
    After I get cleaned up, but before I head out, I make sure my door is closed and open a drawer. I retrieve a small scrap of paper and unfold it and read it again.  
  
    "Your eyes are rivers of crystal that I would love to bathe in. If you would but hold me in your snowy arms, I would feel refreshed and clean."  
  
    I don't know who wrote this note. I had received many of these, but I don't know where they came from. Eventually the flood trickled, then stopped altogether. At first I found them really embarrassing, but it's nice to be admired, even by someone who won't tell me who they are. I smile slightly and put the note back up with the others. I kind of miss getting them, and whoever wrote them sounds really sweet and romantic. Oh well...  
  
    Dad and I live in a house in Downtown Zootopia, which I guess is kind of rare. We are stoats, after all; we don't take up much space, but still, most everyone seems to live in apartment complexes. I head into the living room, where my Dad is.  
  
    "Oh, g'morning, sugar," Dad smiles at me from his position on his armchair, looking at the clock. "Or what's left of it, anyway."  
  
    "Morning Dad," I walk over and kiss him on the top of his head.  
  
    "Want me to fix you some breakfast?" He offers. His cooking is mediocre at best, to be honest. I have a bit of an excuse.  
  
    I shake my head. "I think I'll just go grab something."  
  
    "Heading out?" His smile fades a little bit.  
  
    "Uh, yeah, is that okay?"  
  
    "Heather, you're practically an adult," Dad chuckles. "You can make your own decisions."  
  
    I look at my dad and his right foot, propped up on a footrest. I start to frown.  
  
    "Everything okay, sugar?" His brow falls in concern.  
  
    "Yeah," I nod. "...No."  
  
    I don't like lying to my dad.  
  
    I sigh. "Just thinking about mom."  
  
    "Don't," Dad shakes his head. "That never puts you in a good place."  
  
    "It's her fault you're like this," I sneer, feeling my fingers tighten into fists.  
  
    "Not... not really," Dad gives a tiny grin. "I took a tumble on the field." Yeah, a "tumble". He shattered his foot, and although he can walk, he does so with a limp. It was a career-ending injury. I mean, we're still fine, but, yeah. I blame my mother.  
  
    "Are you going to be okay if I go out?" I mumble.  
  
    "Just fine," Dad nods. "Mind telling me where you're going, though?"  
  
    "To Mezzo Park," I say, "y'know, wanna keep an eye on Kara and all."  
  
    "Ah yes, you're the chaperone, I forgot," Dad grins. "Are you worried her boyfriend will turn out to be a jerk or something?"  
  
    "You never know with some people," I mutter. Dad nods sadly and shrugs.  
  
    "I'm okay, sweetheart," Dad reiterates. "I've got a wonderful daughter and enough money to live my life on. What more could I ask for?"  
  
    "Someone that loves and respects you, for one," I scoff, trying to release my fingers before my claws dig into my palms.  
  
    "I already _told you_ that I have a wonderful daughter," Dad smiles softly.  
  
    "Ugh-," I smile. "That's- that's not even fair." I sort of collapse onto him and give him a hug. He chuckles happily.  
  
    I love my Dad.  
  
    I head out to the nearest Bug Burga; they'll be serving lunch pretty soon and I prefer their lunches anyway. My thoughts are still clouded.  
  
    Have you ever heard of Roger Mine? Don't feel too bad if you haven't. He was kind of a rising star in the Pro Pawball Small League. His career only lasted four years, but he was pretty darn good. In that fourth year, though, things started to go wrong.  
  
    I blame my mother. She cheated on him. I still can't believe that someone would throw away their loyalty to their mate, especially one who makes plenty of money, is athletic, faithful, and just... so many other things. She cheated on him, and it kind of broke him.  
  
    I was old enough at the time to know what was going on. It wasn't that long ago; the wounds are still fresh. I wouldn't have gone with my mother if you'd paid me. Fortunately, Dad had a good lawyer. Unfortunately, there were prenuptial agreements that were signed, and mom made out like the filthy bandit she is. She and her scum boyfriend are probably living it large on the money my father earned from his skill and perseverance. It makes me so angry.  
  
    He wasn't the same after the divorce. His skill on the field flagged and that's when he sustained his injury. That's why I blame mom. That's why I hate her. She took everything from him. ...Well, everything but me and his house and enough money to live on. I guess it could have been worse.  
  
    I loathe duplicity and unfaithfulness. I want to be a Pro Pawball player like my father. I'm in prime shape for a stoat of my age, especially a female. More than anything, I want to carry out his legacy and show the world that the Mines are loyal and true.  
  
    When there was a doping scandal that rocked the Pro Pawball scene, my father was clean.  
  
    When he got an offer to be contracted by the Serpencity Sidewinders, the top mustelid-dominated Pro Pawball team, he turned it down.  
  
    And how was my father rewarded? It disgusts me to think about.  
  
    I feel even worse though, that something similar happened to me. The bites of my "breakfast" come slowly as I reflect on my recent past.  
  
    All throughout my formative years, I thought I was straight. As straight as a mammal can get. Y'know, eventually settling down with a male stoat and all. When I got my first heat in middle school though, things started to change. For one thing, I felt mildly attracted to a male chinchilla of all things, and I turned that into rage instead of affection. He ran into me in the hallway at school, as the clumsy oaf often does to many different mammals, and I beat him up. I was ashamed of it later, but I couldn't deal with my feelings, and I couldn't tell anyone that it was heat that was making me feel that way. It was too embarrassing.  
  
    Not as bad as what happened in high school, though.  
  
    I met this pretty little least weasel named Star Nivalis. Now, I can barely think of her name without spitting. She... I was attracted to her. I don't know why. I'd never felt that way about a girl before. The way she carried herself, the way she talked, the way she charmed. I had her added to the Musteladies, a clique/club/organization or whatever you want to call it led by my friend Princess Weaselton. Things eventually got... physical... between us. She showed me what a girl could do to please another girl, and it was... enlightening, exciting.  
  
    But it had all been a lie.  
  
    She was seducing me; coaxing my feelings out to make me _hers_. Star wanted to take over the Musteladies because she found the leadership weak. And... in that moment, I knew I too was weak. I had been betrayed.  
  
    I won't lie, it felt so good to punch Star across the face when she betrayed my trust and told Princess we had... gotten involved. Princess barely managed to stop me before I stained the grass with Star's blood, and... I don't know. I can't even look at Star anymore. I sometimes wonder if I'd gotten an opportunity to punch my mother, would it have felt that good?  
  
    I don't know what I am. Dad doesn't know I'm bi-curious. I don't think he'd mind if I told him, but... I don't know.  
  
    I feel like every female in my life is destined to betray me. I wonder when it will be Princess' turn.  
  
    No... that's a negative way of thinking. I saved Princess once, only once, from being picked on because her father is a petty criminal, and she's been by my side ever since. Once she formed the Musteladies, she put me as the top position, the "enforcer" or whatever. She values and respects my opinion, and I have no reason to be anything but loyal to her.  
  
    It's taken me forever to finish my food, even though I was quite hungry. I wish I could get these morose, heavy thoughts out of my head. I don't actually think going to the park is going to help much, for many reasons.  
  
    The park is warm and there's a peaceful breeze; it's essentially the perfect weather, an idyllic day. Most of the mammals are already in the usual hangout spot.  
  
    Chet's there, that chinchilla I beat up once. He's usually so nice, but after I beat him up I'd catch him giving me hateful stares occasionally. I eventually felt like I had to apologize to him and explain to him why I did what I did, and how sorry I was. When I finally did, it was like I'd never beat him up in the first place and he was nothing but friendly to me. It was... pretty odd, actually. I wouldn't say we're friends, but I don't think he  _hates_ me, at least.  
  
    That fluffy gray-furred rodent seems especially happy today. I can never tell what's going on with him. His emotional mask is thicker than Kunoichi's, the Mustelady spy. Chet's the one that organizes these little "meets". He once invited a bunch of rodents to the park to do tricks and run around near a couple of trees in the south side of the park that have grown close together, and it just became a regular thing for his friends, of which he has many.  
  
    The Musteladies usually didn't come to these little meets, but things change.  
  
    In high school, Chet met this eastern gray squirrel named Larry. Completely boring and ordinary guy if you'd ask me. The chinchilla and squirrel  _really_ hit it off somehow and are best buddies.  
  
    That leads me to Kara Pedshark, my ferret best friend. She fell head over tail for Larry, somehow. I asked what she saw in him. "He's so nice! So sweet!" She'd say. Things like that. I mean, he's _nice_ , I guess.  
  
    Anyway, after Kara and Larry started going out, I decided to at least join her at Chet's meets so I could keep an eye on the squirrel and make sure he was treating my best friend right.  
  
    I'm looking at the two right now. They're almost disgustingly cute together. Kara's always been socially awkward, so her advances on Larry are full of little missteps and trip-ups. She fumbles over her words; she awkwardly tries to use some little come-ons with a science flavor to them, and Larry eats it all up. It'd make me suspicious of him, but Larry's almost the same way. The way he'll nervously ask for a picture of her or get all shy if he accidentally brushes up against her tail.  
  
    Ugh, barf. It's so darn cute. Yeah, I'm a little jealous. Not that Kara doesn't deserve a nice boyfriend like Larry.  
  
    Kunoichi heard about the trick meets and now she comes around too. Kunoichi is an Anihonese marten. She has golden fur on most of her body and really stands out in a crowd. Kunoichi also loves wearing this navy blue scarf over her nose and mouth. She is our spy, and she's a master of deception. Of course I don't really  _trust_ her. Her real name is Hotaru, and her real personality is completely different than Kunoichi. But she always likes to play like she's some sort of ninja.  
  
    She's good at it though, I'll give her that.  
  
    Kunoichi winds up one of the tree trunks. She spirals around like a ribbon, eventually swirling around a thick branch and flipping off it, landing neatly on three of her paws, posing with one of her hands. She's flashy and agile, and yeah, I guess she does make a pretty good "ninja".  
  
    "Whoa, that was _awesome_ , Kuno!" Chet heartily claps. His compliments are usually hyperbolic, but in Kunoichi's case they're pretty well-warranted. Larry and Kara offer claps too, though a bit delayed because they were busy staring into each others' eyes lovingly. They're so syrupy you could pour them on pancakes.  
  
    Kunoichi closes her eyes happily and gives a nod, then wanders over to Laura Lutraski, our newest Mustelady. She's a smallish otter with light brown fur and eyes. The two have been getting pretty chummy lately, and seem to like hanging out together. I think they might be a "thing", but I don't know. Usually when one of the Musteladies gets a prospective boyfriend or girlfriend, Princess announces it at a meeting so we can all engage in a friendly round of ribbing and teasing. But I don't know about these two; Princess hasn't said anything.  
  
    I feel a bit irritated about the whole thing, to be honest. Does Laura really like Hotaru, or just Kunoichi? And why does Kunoichi seem so interested in Laura all of a sudden? Just because she's the newest member of the Musteladies? I mean, we have other otters...  
  
    Eventually Kunoichi breaks from Laura and starts heading off in the direction of a restroom. I guess even "ninjas" have to relieve themselves once in awhile. I decide to follow her. Her head moves slightly as I follow her; she wouldn't be much of a spy if she didn't notice me. I hang out around the restroom and wait for her to come back out.  
  
    "Heather," Kunoichi says, making a deep nod, almost a full bow. I think this is an Anihonese culture thing.  
  
    "Kunoichi," I return. I don't like to mince my words, so I get right into it. "So, are you and Laura a thing now?" Initially, Kunoichi says nothing in reply. Her eyes slightly shift off to the side before she looks back up at me. Her scarf hides whatever expression is on her face.  
  
    "I am not attracted to her," Kunoichi claims.  
  
    "Oh yeah?" I fold my arms, not buying this. "You're awfully buddy-buddy with her. Even seen you two holding hands and hugging."  
  
    Kunoichi doesn't reply again for awhile. Eventually she quickly nods. "Mm."  
  
    I sigh in exasperation. "You insist on playing up that 'mysterious' nature of yours, don't you?"  
  
    She stares at me, her eyes slightly squinting. I bet there's a smirk under there. I'm losing my patience.  
  
    "How about the notes?" I ask. She flinches. "Yeah, awhile ago Princess had you look into those notes for me. Did you find out who was sending them?"  
  
    "I cannot say," Kunoichi says quickly and quietly.  
  
    I grit my teeth. "What's your game!? I'm asking you a question! I'm a Leading Lady, so answer me!" It's not like me to get so angry, but frustration has been bubbling up within me regarding this marten for a long time. I cannot stand how evasive she is.  
  
    Kunoichi looks off to the side as if to find an escape. I advance a few steps, and she looks back at me, startled. I know I could wallop her if it came down to it, but catching her would be another deal. I am fast, though. Quite fast.  
  
    The marten surprises me by lowering her mask and showing the rest of her face. Her teeth are grit and she looks wracked with guilt.  
  
    "Please do not make me say," she squeaks. It's her... that is, _Hotaru's_ normal high-pitched voice, not Kunoichi's. I blink. "I do not want to compromise my loyalty-"  
  
    She can't finish the word before I explode.  
  
    " _Loyalty_!?" I growl, advancing on her until our noses are almost touching. "What would  _you_ know about _loyalty_? You're a spy! You sneak around and wear disguises and pretend to be other people!"  
  
    Hotaru cringes. "Please... I- I  _am_ loyal..."  
  
    This incenses me. Who does Hotaru think she is!? She's only loyal to-  
  
    "Princess...!" My mouth finishes my thought. "...She and I are going to have a _talk_."  
  
    "Already I have said too much," Hotaru mumbles. "I'm so sorry..."  
  
    "Go," I mutter, and she obliges, placing her scarf back on her face. She was very distressed. I suppose I'll have to apologize to her later as well. But first, I want some answers. I bring my phone out and text Princess.  
  
    [Where are you?] The message is blunt.  
  
    [At home, why?] A quick reply from Princess.  
  
    [Get down to Chet's meet.]  
  
    [Okay, okay, let me pretty myself up and I'll BRT.]  
  
    I growl and shove my phone into my pocket at that. I slowly make my way back to the trick meet. Chet's just landed after flying through the air with his body horizontal and spinning. It's kind of impressive. Kunoichi seems to think so and claps heartily. By her eyes, I think she's smiling. Awful quick flip in mood from her. I grumble to myself.  
  
    "And _that_ ," Chet breathes out, "is the SQ-Whirl! Much props to my brody for coming up with that." He nudges Larry, who chuckles. The squirrel notices me and seems suddenly concerned. He says something to Kara and they both come over. Great.  
  
    "Heather...?" Kara asks. Larry is trailing dutifully. I think he's still a bit intimidated by me; I did threaten someone right in front of him, but it was for his sake.  
  
    "Sup?" My hands are in my pockets and I shrug my shoulders.  
  
    "Would you like to do a trick today?" Kara smiles patiently.  
  
    "Not really feeling it today," I say. My own tricks are pretty good, I'd claim, but they lack finesse.  
  
    "Oh, umh... okay," Kara nods.  
  
    "Princess is coming," I say. "I'm going off to the nearby fountain. Send her my way."  
  
    "All right," Kara nods again, trying a weak smile. Larry looks concerned up at her and Kara breaks off from me. He gives me the same look and then follows Kara. That's one thing about that white and honey ferret. She's the sweetest person I know, but she's not really great at prying feelings out of people, or comforting them.  
  
    I sigh and head off to the fountain. I climb onto the lowest lip and slap the water with my claws. I sit on the lip and try to reconcile my feelings.  
  
    I'd always feared Princess would betray me, but I have yet to see how. My black-tipped, frayed tail threatens to dip into the water.  
  
    Princess eventually finds me. She's a least weasel, like Star, but has a more composed, almost regal appearance. She's very confident looking, and despite her relatively small size she has every reason to be.  
  
    "Hi Heather," she waves. "What's up?"  
  
    I slide off the lip of the fountain and storm right over to her. My teeth are grit very tightly in my mouth.  
  
    "Uh, okay," she says. "You're angry. Care to enlighten me as to why?"  
  
    "What game are you playing, Princess?" I ask coldly.  
  
    "Well, I was playing some Super Bash Bunnies in my lounging clothes actually, before I was called down here," Princess folds her arms.  
  
    I am not amused, I sneer.  
  
    "What's wrong with you?" Princess narrows her eyes.  
  
    "I know something's going on with Kunoichi," I say. Instantly her face changes, her eyebrows turn up a bit. "That's right. I just don't know what. She won't tell me what happened with the notes I was being sent. She won't tell me why she's cozying up to Laura."  
  
    "It-it's not really a big deal," Princess has a guilty smile.  
  
    "You're going behind my back!" I shout. "You're betraying me!"  
  
    "Betraying you!?" Princess looks shocked and offended. Her brow furrows. "Do you  _really think_ that after all we've been through together, I'd just- I'd just  _drop_ everything over some stupid thing like this?"  
  
    I get right in her face.  
  
    "Ask me that again," I enunciate each word with deathly seriousness.  
  
    "...Heather," Princess' face weakens. She knows what I've been through. "I'm trying to- to protect you."  
  
    "From _what_?" I hiss.  
  
    "Laura," she responds flat out. I back up.  
  
    "What about her?" I blink.  
  
    "She sent the notes," Princess frowns.  
  
    "She- she did!?" I'm caught off guard. The new otter sent me all those notes? Those nice, sweet- "Wh- well why didn't you tell me!?"  
  
    "Because," Princess grits her teeth. "I think the only reason she's sending you them is because she _knows_. Like, she was the only 'outsider' there when that thing between you and Star went down, you remember...?"  
  
    I actually almost forgot Laura was there... "Oh. B- but she stopped... I guess she's into Kunoichi now."  
  
    "Kunoichi is  _spying_ on her for me," Princess says carefully after making sure we're alone. "I'm wary about Laura... I have a feeling that the only reason she joined the Musteladies is because she's... well... 'thirsty', for want of a better word."  
  
    "Really?" I blink twice.  
  
    "She's a lesbian," Princess scratches her cheek. "I've figured out that much. I think she joined the Musteladies just because there's a lot of hot mustelid girls in it. She-"  
  
    "Well then why didn't you tell me!?" I grit my teeth, but my anger is failing. I'm just feeling hurt and confused. "All of this nonsense could be avoided..."  
  
    "I don't want you to get hurt, Heather," Princess says gravely, looking up at me. "Not again, not like you have. Not ever again. I'm trying to- to be more careful. I don't want something like what happened with Star to happen again."  
  
    "You think she'd- but her notes are so nice..." I feel like crying. Princess really is still true to me...  
  
    "Kunoichi is to 'break up' with her soon," Princess says, looking away. "If you're still interested, maybe you can pick her up after that."  
  
    "This seems- it seems a bit harsh to do to the otter..." I frown. "Playing with her emotions, having me catch her on the rebound?"  
  
    "If it's between you and Laura, I'd choose you every time," Princess says seriously, patting me on the arm. I let out a shaky sigh. She jerks her thumb in the direction of the meet. "I'm gonna go do a trick or two, since I'm all the way down here n' all, and I don't want people to get suspicious. Hope it doesn't make my makeup run!"  
  
    "...Thanks for looking out for me, Princess," I grumble.  
  
    "Of course, Heather," Princess smiles. "Any time."  
  
    I get back up on the fountain and sit there, thinking. I'm trying to think about what I know about Laura. She's cute, kind of sweet. From her writing there's something of an artist in her, maybe. A love of nature. Is she really just "thirsty" and looking for a girlfriend? And if she became my girlfriend-  
  
    Ugh. I'd always resisted my own self-discovery. Even in middle school, everyone figured I was a lesbian because of the whole "tough girl" attitude I had. ...If I eventually get a girlfriend, wouldn't I just be proving everyone right? I'm just some stereotypical butch lesbian?  
  
    To my surprise, when I tilt my head down a bit, I see _Larry_ of all people, standing on the ground and staring up at me.  
  
    "Hi," Larry says. I blink.  
  
    "Hey, pipsqueak," I reply.  
  
    "Mind if I sit next to you?" He asks. I don't say anything, hoping that might scare him off. It doesn't, and he sits next to me. "Hey um, I don't know what's going on with you, and you don't have to tell me, but I'd just like to say that I'm here if you want to talk."  
  
    "I don't, really," I insist. Great, this kit really  _is_ sweet.  
  
    "Okay, we don't have to talk then," Larry nods, looking off into the distance. He carefully fishes his phone out of his pocket and messes with it. Probably sending some lovey-dovey goop to my best friend. He shows me the phone. "What do you think?"  
  
    My eyes slightly widen. It's a picture he's taken of me, sort of wistfully staring off into the distance, sitting there balanced on the lip of the fountain with my hands, my feet slightly kicking.  
  
    "It's- uh..." I fumble for words, "psh. I'm not even smiling."  
  
    Larry shrugs. "I think it's cool. Lots of times candid pictures come out better than ones you're forced to take, because it shows like... the 'real you' or something."  
  
    "You think I'm like that then?" I sneer. "Just some... broody, moody stoat?"  
  
    Larry shrugs.  
  
    There's a long silence.  
  
    "You think we can be friends?" Larry asks.  
  
    "Why?" I grumble.  
  
    "Well, you're Kara's best friend," Larry answers.  
  
    "Hey, why aren't you with her right now, anyway?" I look at him in annoyance. "You better not be leaving her hanging just to talk to me."  
  
    "She said she had to go home and work on a group project," Larry says.  
  
    "Oh," I scoff. "She's probably doing all the work for her lazy classmates."  
  
    "Probably," Larry agrees. More silence. "So uh, you know how I came to have a fox and bunny for parents?"  
  
    "You were adopted," I say curtly.  
  
    "Yeah," Larry says. His voice is weakening. I think I've almost got him to leave me alone. "Dad died in a large animal accident when I was five, and mom died of cancer right before I turned nine."  
  
    I feel like my heart has dropped right into my stomach.  
  
    "Wh-what?" I look at him, incredulous. "...How do you come back from something like that?"  
  
    Larry shrugs.  
  
    "I- I wouldn't have guessed anything was wrong with you," I marvel. "You- you hide it well."  
  
    Larry shrugs again. "It's easy to hide what hurts us because its hard to talk about."  
  
    "Heh," I chuckle. "So you think just because you've told me one of your secrets that I'm gonna tell you one of mine?"  
  
    "Nope," Larry shakes his head. "Just kinda making conversation."  
  
    "Kara put you up to this, didn't she?" I ask.  
  
    "Nope," Larry smirks. "She didn't know how to make you feel better."  
  
    "And some little squirrel is going to help," I mumble.  
  
    "Not if you don't want me to," Larry grunts. He starts to slip off the edge of the fountain, but I stop him by grabbing his shoulder.  
  
    "Larry, wait," I sigh heavily. "...Listen. I've been burned before." He involuntarily looks at my black, frayed tail. "No, not that, you moron." I start to chuckle, then it turns into a full laugh. Larry weakly joins me in laughter. "I value trust and loyalty above all else."  
  
    "That's a cool thing," Larry nods.  
  
    "But... I've had it broken before," I grumble. "It makes me feel awful when people betray me. I can't stop thinking about it or obsessing over it."  
  
    "You can't blame yourself for things other people do," Larry says. "And you can't blame yourself for things that are beyond your control. I- I'm not sure I'm even there yet." Larry smiles sadly.  
  
    "Ugh..." I close my eyes, but when I open them up I find I'm smiling. I look in my reflection to make sure this is the case. "You really are a sweet little dweeb. I can see why Kara likes you."  
  
    "Hey, thanks," Larry smiles.  
  
    "Let me borrow your phone," I say. The squirrel obliges without a second thought. I sigh, and a wicked thought creeps into my mind. "I... you know I've sometimes thought what it would be like to be on the other side."  
  
    "Of death?" Larry blinks in alarm.  
  
    "Oh jeez, no, no," I shake my head violently. "You know, to be the betrayer, instead of the betrayed."  
  
    "Uh..." Larry looks worried.  
  
    I grin.  
  
    "Anyway, I thought I'd get a picture of you," I say, then with a shove of one hand he ends up in the fountain, "after you're soaking wet."  
  
    "Blugh!" Larry pops his head out of the water and climbs out of the fountain. Oh my gosh, he looks ridiculous. I take several pictures of him and wince as water flies everywhere when he shakes off. "I wasn't planning on going swimming today."  
  
    "I've taken advantage of your trust, little squirrel," I smile. "Now maybe we can be friends or something... so I can make it up to you."  
  
    Larry coughs and laughs. Jeez, I at least hoped he'd be a little bit miffed. What a literal pushover. ...He's really sweet.  
  
    "Here's your phone," I give it back to him. "Feel free to delete the pictures."  
  
    Larry laughs at the pictures. "Oh, this one is pretty good. I think I should send it to Kara..."  
  
    "Oh my gosh, you _dork_ ," I roll my eyes. "I have to get out of here." I jump off the lip of the fountain. I take out my own phone. "Hey, if I give you my number, will you send it to me, too?"  
  
    "Sure," Larry smiles. Wow, his tail looks especially ridiculous. We exchange information. I guess we're friends now, or something. "Catch you later, Heather."  
  
    I leave pretty quickly before my smile becomes permanent.  
  
    Dad kind of recognizes the uplift in my mood, and he smiles at me as I come home.  
  
    "Ah, just in time!" Dad says. "I ordered a pizza with all our favorite toppings."  
  
    "Oh my gosh, _yes_ ," I leap over to Dad, hugging him, "I love pizza. And I love you."  
  
    "Love you too, sugar," Dad smiles warmly as he squeezes me.  
  
    As we eat pizza, I figure now might be a pretty good time to drop the bomb, especially because I have a bit of lingering good mood, so I could probably take the backlash.  
  
    "Dad," I say carefully. "Uh... I think I'm bisexual."  
  
    "Oh yeah?" Dad chews thoughtfully on a piece of pizza, looking off into the distance. Its a bit crunchy because of the grasshoppers. "You got a girlfriend?"  
      
    "Uh, not yet?" I admit.  
  
    "Well if you do, don't think I'll go easy on her just because she's a girl," Dad smirks. "She's gonna get the same level of scrutiny as any  _guy_ that tries to woo my baby girl."  
  
    "Ugh, _Dad_ ," my heart's beating fast, but I can't say I expected this lax of a reaction.  
  
    "It's my job as Father of the Year to make sure you're happy," Dad says proudly.  
  
    "I... I am happy," I admit.  
  
    And it's true. I feel almost giddy from how relieved and content I feel at the moment.  
  
    I love my Dad. I love my friends. I guess I even kind of made a new one, admittedly in a bit of a misguided way...  
  
    Some bad stuff's happened to dad and I, yeah, but I think the future looks pretty bright.  
  
    That, and this pizza is  _really_ tasty.


	13. Alexander Reddish

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content Warning: More mature situations than usual, vaguely described.
> 
> The Different Tail "Atypical" also features Alex Reddish.

    I launch out of bed and double-check the day on my phone. Yes! Here we go. I look at myself in the mirror as I get out of bed. Whew, my orange and black fur is going every which way. I'm really going to need to get this all brushed out after my shower. Can't afford to look slovenly today, no indeed. Today's a red-letter day. One of those days you circle on the calendar with a marker. I'm not sure why they call them red-letter days, actually, when you circle them on the calendar. Maybe the letter is "O"?  
  
    I take at least twice as long in the shower as I usually do. I seriously consider using some of my sister's fur product. You know, all the "female" fur product has fanciful claims like "makes vulpine fur 20% fluffier" and all that, like they were magic potions. I decide it's better to  _not_ smell like a girl fox, and just go with my usual stuff. I'm more thorough than usual, though. I'm half-expecting my sister to come banging on the door at any time and demand my blood, but it doesn't happen.  
  
    I get out of the shower and start with the fur dryer. Oh yeah, out's coming the Alex I can recognize. I spend extra time with the brush, too. My fur becomes fluffy and soft. Hopefully not  _too_ soft. By the time I go out, hopefully it will be more "normal" again so I can look casual and cool about the whole thing. I scamper off to my bedroom after I'm finished.  
  
    What to wear, what to _wear_...  
  
    Often I like wearing stuff with colors that contrast my predominately orange and black fur, just so I can stand out. Something that says "hey! look at me!" Do I want to wear more subtle, complimentary colors? Do I want to wear something that will make my blue eyes pop? I almost feel like asking my dad; he's really good with colors. But that'd probably get around to someone, likely my sister, and I'd be teased for it. I can't ask my moms either unless I texted them. They're off at Bunnyburrow visiting some family friends, the Greys. They'll come back with some tasty pastries, no doubt, but if I texted them for advice there would be  _hard evidence_ that I'm an indecisive little todd that has no idea about fashion.  
  
    I sigh and just put on some casual, but neat-looking clothes, with a long-sleeved shirt on top. I'm looking pretty good, I think.  
  
    As I come out of my room, I can't make it to the stairs before my sister accosts me. We don't actually look that much alike; her fur colors are way more subdued. More dusty grays and reduced oranges, not to mention Dad's yellow-brown eyes. Sometimes people mistake her for a little wolf, or at least a wolf-fox, which don't really exist. We do have the same parents though, so we're blood relatives, for whatever that's worth.  
  
    "Hey, Alex...!" Cindy greets me, looking me over. Crud, she can probably sense or smell that I've spent some extra time grooming.  
  
    "Uh, hey sis," I half-smile.  
  
    "So, tonight I'm having some of my friends over," Cindy says, looking over her claws. "The campaign's almost to a close. They're about to fight a big dragon-"  
  
    "Wow, a _dragon_ ," I interrupt her and open my eyes wide in faux interest, "that's- that's great! Very creative, Cindy. How long did it take you to come up with a  _dragon_ as your final boss?"  
  
    "Alex!" Cindy furrows her brow. "I can't give away the twist to _you_ ; it would spoil the whole story!" She sighs. "But... I've run the numbers a few times, and they really don't have that great of a chance to actually  _beat_ the dragon so they can get to the twist."  
  
    "So you made the campaign too hard," I barely shrug my shoulders, "doesn't that mean you win?"  
  
    "It means I won't get to the good part!" Cindy says, almost anxiously. "I was just wondering... maybe a certain shadowfox archer could come swooping in to save the day with his ancient artifact bow? How about it, Shade?"  
  
    "Cindy...!" I press my paw hard on my forehead. "Don't call me by my middle name, okay?" I was a dork obsessed with being cool during most of my teenage years, yes. I don't need to constantly be reminded of that.  
  
    "Okay okay, whatever," Cindy waves a hand. "Will you play with us tonight? We won't be starting until-"  
  
    "Uh, no," I shake my head firmly. "No no no. Did you forget I have a  _date_ tonight?"  
  
    "Oh, _right_ ," Cindy rolls her eyes, her voice flattening and draining of enthusiasm. "With _Jessica_."  
  
    "Wh-why are you saying it like that?" My face looks hurt for a split second before I make it sneer. "You jealous?"  
  
    "Sure, I'm jealous of my kit brother," my sister's eyes roll again. She might as well just keep them up there.  
  
    "I'm only two years younger than you!" I thrust my head in her direction. "I'm _eighteen_ , practically an adult! Legally one! You can't treat me like that! Yh-you're just mad I won't play your  _pretend_ game because I have a  _real_ date!"  
  
    "Alex, I'm hanging out with my _friends_ ," Cindy frowns. "We're playing a game.  _You're_ going out with _Jessica_."  
  
    "Quit saying it like that!" I hold my palms up, my fingers curling. "What's your problem with her, anyway? It's cause she's a _skunk_ , isn't it!?"  
  
    "Wow, real nice," Cindy lowers her eyelids. "You just- you played that species card right out of the gate, huh?" She makes a casual flick of her hand, like she's dealing a card. "Whoosh. Species card. Bam. Right on the table."  
  
    "I'll bite, then!" I'm losing my patience. "What's wrong with Jessica? Why're you being such a-"  
  
    "She's not a nice _mammal_ , _Alex_ ," Cindy plants her paws on her hips, tilting her head like I'm her son, not her brother.  
  
    "How do you figure?" I growl. "You don't know her."  
  
    "I've looked at her social media," Cindy scoffs. "Her posts are vapid and brainless; some even mean-spirited. And you know what's  _not_ up there? A lot of pictures of you. I've seen maybe two, one with her, one without."  
  
    "S-so what?" I put my paws on my chest, leaning over. "She likes me! An-and what are you doing snooping around her social media, anyway?"  
  
    "Maybe you should raise your standards a little bit, Alex," Cindy says with an even voice, "else, you're gonna get yourself walked all over."  
  
    "Sure,  _great_ dating advice from someone who can't hold one down," I snap back. "Why is that, Cindy? Is it 'cause your standards are so high? Or are you constantly jabbering about your tabletop games to anyone who'll listen!?" Oof. That was a bit low. I try to keep a stern look on my face, though. I don't want to look weak in front of my big sister. Her eyes get big for a moment, then her brow furrows. I'm waiting for the snap or slap I deserve.  
  
    "Fine, whatever," Cindy turns tail. I'm listening for a note of hurt in her voice, but she just sounds flippant. "Go have fun with _Jessica_." She retreats into her room. The door slams, but not as hard as it  _could_ have been slammed... I guess...  
  
    I let a breath slowly out through my muzzle and head downstairs. Now that  _that's_ over, I have to try and plead with Dad to borrow his car. Dad and gray mom have cars now, after having gone a lot of their lives without them. Dad's car is sporty and cool-looking. I'm sure Jessica would be impressed if I picked her up in that. I can't find him immediately; he's probably in his studio.  
  
    I gently knock on the studio door.  
  
    "Come in," Dad says.  
  
    I do. Dad's working on another nature painting, as usual. I kinda like when he works on portraits of mammals; he always makes them look arty, colorful, and cool. But he's got a thing for nature, too. Dad's fur is entirely black and gray with no red at all; he's a "silver fox". He looks really cool and almost intimidating. Anyone who's hung out with him for more than five minutes knows he's a big softie though, so I figure I can sweet-talk my way into borrowing the car with no problem.  
  
    "Hey Dad!" I say cheerfully. "Hows the painting coming?"  
  
    "Oh, pretty good," Dad nods.  
  
    "So uh," I rub behind my ears, "you know I've got that date with Jessica tonight, right? Yh-you think I could maybe borrow your car tonight?"  
  
    "Ah," Dad straightens up, setting his paintbrush down. "Son, mm... maybe we could have a talk about Jessica?"  
  
    "Ugh, you too?" I place my paw on my forehead and look down. "I'm almost glad red mom and gray mom aren't home; it feels like everyone's giving me grief over her."  
  
    Dad sighs. "Listen, son. I just- I don't want you to make a mistake, okay?"  
  
    "What mistake am I making, Dad?" I throw my arms out to the side. "Going out on a date? I'm practically an adult!"  
  
    "I remember being your age, Alex," Dad said, looking at me seriously with his yellow-brown eyes. "You know, in these days, your hormones are running high, and we both have an unusual, fetching coat, so naturally mammals are curious about us..."  
  
    "Yeah, and is that a bad thing?" I hold my paws palm up near my chest. "I- I mean, is it bad that maybe I'm kinda cool-looking so I can get a date? I- Is it bad that you like painting because you're good at it? Is it wrong to use our advantages?"  
  
    Dad huffs. "No, son. That's not it at all. Like I said, I was like you when I was growing up. Girls were all over me, mostly because I looked different. But you have to be _careful_. I'm... kind of concerned about Jessica. From what you've told me about her, it sounds like she's using you."  
  
    " _Using_ me, for what?" I'm getting flustered. "A boyfriend? Sure, I'll take that! And wh-what, what's the problem with being a chick magnet?"  
  
    "Sometimes, it's just-" Dad looks at me with concern. "I don't want you to get hurt, is all. Girls are sometimes just after what they can  _get_ from you."  
  
    "Wh- rrgh!" I try not to, but a little growl comes out. "This is rich. This is  _rich_ coming from you, Dad! You have  _two_ mates! Two girls that could probably have been on the cover of some sort of swimsuit magazine! And yh-you're busting my chops about my first girlfriend!?"  
  
    Dad furrows his brow. He _never_ furrows his brow. Crap, too far. Way too far. Just as quickly though, he deflates and looks a little sad, actually.  
  
    "Here," he says, rustling in his pocket and tossing his keys to me. "Just bring it back in one piece, okay?" I barely catch the keys.  
  
    "Dad, I-," I stammer.  
  
    "Have a good time," Dad says blankly.  
  
    Well, with  _that_ giant load of guilt on my back, I slowly back away from his studio and softly close the door. I'm being a jerk, I know, but why's everyone so hard on Jessica? We all have our faults, right? She's so hot and alluring... I can't wait to see her. Only a few hours now...  
  
    Before long, the time arrives, and I excitedly get into Dad's sporty black car and drive over to Jessica's apartment complex. I park and text her that I've arrived. I scamper up to the lobby, prepared to go meet her at her door, but she surprises me by showing up in the elevator I was about to use.  
  
    "Hey there," Jessica says in her silky, tasty voice.  
  
    "Hi," I hope my grin looks sly, but from her amused huff it probably looks goofy. She looks _really hot_. Her eyes are forest-green and really pierce through you. She wears black and white clothing that almost melds with her fur. Short skirt, bare shoulders, the way she holds her tail in that proud arc like skunks do... ooh she's a yummy number.  
  
    It takes me a little bit as we're walking to the car to compose myself. "So, dinner and a movie, right?"  
  
    "Yeah, let's hit the fish place a couple blocks down," Jessica says casually. "Whoa, nice car." She flashes a grin at me.  
  
    "Right?" I smile, opening the passenger door for her. She gets on in. I manage to stop myself just short of telling her it's my dad's car.  
  
    Jessica texts a little while we're driving, and takes a selfie. The car  _does_ have nice upholstery, I'll admit. I have to furtively sneak some peeks at her at the red lights; she's really sexy. I guess I kind of have a thing for slightly smaller girls? I try to think a little bit about what kinda girls do it for me, but so far none of them have done it more so than Jessica.  
  
    We get to the fish place, but she gets out before I can let her out. I at least get the door for her at the restaurant.  
  
    We're seated and start getting our food. I go for the fried fish and chips, their most popular thing. She orders the fish of the day, a bit more expensive. Meat is really tasty; both foxes and skunks are omnivores, so we can just eat whatever we want usually. All of Zootopia is our restaurant!  
  
    Jessica and I haven't said very much as we've eaten. Maybe that's my fault.  
  
    "So um... Jessica," I start. I gotta get these word whiskers under control so I seem more confident. "There a movie you wanna see tonight?"  
  
    "Yeah," Jessica nods, "Straight Otter Time. Supposed to be really good."  
  
    "Oh, sure!" I nod definitively. Ugh, that's a heist movie. To tell the truth, I don't like crime movies all that much. Superhero movies are more my jam, and to tell the truth, I'm even getting a taste for romantic comedies, which strike me as more of a "date" type movie. Oh well. I'd be either a kit or a sap if I admitted any of _that_ , so I'll just go with the flow. Besides, I'm not really there to watch the movie anyway.  
  
    I pay for the dinner, of course, and pay to get into the movie. I'm glad we ate beforehand; I've burned through almost all of my budget for this date already, and prices for snacks at movie theaters are beyond ridiculous.  
  
    It takes me about half of the movie to try to make a move on Jessica. Partly because I'm nervous, and partly because the movie is a huge mood killer to me. There's people shooting each other, double and even triple-crossing each other. If I wanted to see things blowing up, I'd watch a superhero movie. If I wanted an interesting story, I'd listen to one of my sister's. Seriously, I'm pretty sure she can write much better than this junk. Anyway, I tear my attention away from the awful movie, and I sneak the armrest up and put my arm around Jessica. She grins at me and snuggles in. Yes! My arm does fall asleep before the movie is over, but it was totally worth it.  
  
    "So, did you like the movie?" I ask as the two of us return to the car.  
  
    "Uh huh; it was totally amazing," Jessica gives me a leer. I dunno if she's being ironic or she liked my cuddling or if she genuinely likes that kind of movie or what. As we get into the car, though, she stops my hand as I try to put the key into the car.  
  
    "What's up?" I ask her, blinking.  
  
    "Hang on..." Jessica gives me a naughty smile. "Let's try a little something, mmm?"  
  
    "Oh yeah?" My heart starts to race. I look around. We're in a pretty secluded parking space. Yes! This is the break I've been waiting for! She coaxes me onto her seat and we start making out. Oh boy...  
  
    I'm set to let her do whatever she's comfortable with. After we make out for awhile, she tells me exactly what to do with my paws. I'm in awe that she's letting me do this. She keeps giving me instructions, the most tame being to put my paw up her skirt.  
  
    The sounds she makes are heavenly. I really get her going. The smells are pretty crazy too. The aroma of a skunk's arousal is a bit new to me, but I take it in as a fresh new experience. When I finally manage to set her off, I shiver at the sound she makes. Wow, it's _powerfully_ sexy. I gasp for the air heavy with her intoxicating scent.  
  
    "Mm... that's enough," Jessica pants. I swallow. I'm pretty turned on myself, and I'm wondering what's going to happen next. "Let's go home."  
  
    "Okay," I nod, trying not to sound too eager. I wonder if she's going to let me into her place or something. Ooh, what a tease! I can't wait. My paws are almost trembling as I drive. I try to use my paw that's still dry mainly. I wonder if it'd be rude to try to wipe the other one off somewhere.  
  
    Using my non-dominant hand for driving and everything is kind of awkward, as is the drive home. We make a little conversation, but I can't think of much to say. She's using her phone a little, but she looks pleased enough. I hope I did a good job, but I'm a bit too scared to ask.  
  
    I park at her apartment complex. The parking lot is almost full, so I have to park way in the back. Maybe I should have offered to drop her off near the front and then come up? I walk her to the entrance of the apartment lot and she turns around and gives me a wicked smile.  
      
    "I had a great time," Jessica smirks at me from over her shoulder. "See you later."  
  
    "Uh, goodnight, Jessica!" I wave awkwardly after her as she leaves. Okay, maybe thinking she'd invite me up into her room was a little ambitious, but I didn't get a goodnight kiss or even a hug? I swallow, unsure of what to think. My steps slow as I get to the car. When I get inside the car, however, I realize it still smells overwhelmingly like a sexy skunk.  
  
    Looking around and with no shortage of embarrassment, I decide to take care of myself into some bushes the car's parked close to. After I'm done, I feel a bit ashamed and underwhelmed. I shut the car door with my elbow and groan, walking to the corner. What did I do wrong? Am I just selfish for wanting a little more from Jessica? At the corner, I see a gas station across the street. Heading into it, I wash my hands thoroughly and pick up a can of spray scent-blocker.  
  
    The deer cashier just reads out my total with no questions or conversation, and I offer him none.  
  
    I head back and spray down the inside of the car. I'm really not keen on having to explain what I did in Dad's car to him. I spray a little, retreat from the car, and sniff inside. Eventually it smells less like skunk arousal and more like the scent blocker. Almost overwhelmingly so. I put the windows down and wait for it to air out a little. While I do this, I check my phone to see what Jessica's recent social media posts are like.  
  
    There's a post there about the car her boyfriend drove her in. A picture of her food. I... yeah, there's none of me exclusively. My heart sinks a little. Nothing about the nice time she had? I mean of course I didn't expect her to make a post about, uh, _that_. Looking over the posts, I feel a little cheap. I feel my hand on my chest, but I move it away.  
  
    I start to drive back to my own house, running the air conditioner high enough to make me shiver. If Dad doesn't use the car for a few days, maybe the smell will go away and it'll be less obvious I'm trying to hide something.  
  
    Reflecting on the night, I start to feel like I enjoyed it less and less. The experience with Jessica in the car was definitely _intense_ , but I can't help but feel unfulfilled. I have to believe that if I stay with her, she might open up to me soon. But...  
  
    I dunno. I feel cold, and it's more than just the air conditioning. I guess Jessica's just not a very warm person. Ugh...  
  
    I pull the car in and take some last sniffs around. Maybe I can get away with it.  
  
    Heading into the living room, Dad's there. I swallow. I'm thinking of just putting the keys on the end table and leaving.  
  
    "Hey, son," Dad says. Just those words kind of shatter me. His voice is calm and even. "How was your date with Jessica?"  
  
    My mind fails me at coming up with a quick response. My paw hesitates before it can put the keys on the table. "I, uh..."  
  
    Dad looks at me, his even face softening with concern. "You okay?"  
  
    "Uh, yh-yeah! Sure Dad," I lie, but my voice cracks.  
  
    "Alex..." the voice sounds concerned, not reproving. Ugh.  
  
    "I..." I sneer, setting the keys down hard. "I... you- you were right, Dad. Can you- yh- just go in the kitchen and pour a big glass of 'I told you so' to pour over my head, okay!?" I'm starting to stutter more and gesticulate wildly.  
  
    "Alex?" Dad gets up. "Wh-what's wrong?"  
  
    "It was..." my lip trembles. "I did everything, Dad. Everything right. I mean, I thought I did. I paid for everything, didn't overstep my bounds. I even... ugh," my stomach has a huge rock in it, "I even pleased her dad. Just the way she wanted me to."  
  
    Dad swallows, blinking. His voice suddenly becomes stern. "Did she force you into anything?"  
  
    "What?" I blink, my eyes wide. "No no no no!" My hands wave. "No, it was... yeah, I wanted to do it. I really wanted to. But then, when the date ended... I felt- rh-regret."  
  
    "Because..." Dad looks me over, "she didn't give you anything back?"  
  
    "Well, kinda? I mean, is that selfish?" I look down at my feet. "She didn't even give me a hug goodnight..."  
  
    Dad stands up suddenly, and I'm quickly reminded that, despite being eighteen, he's still a good bit taller than me.  
  
    "Come here son, there's something I want to show you," Dad beckons me with a finger and starts to head upstairs. Hoo boy. I follow him, starting to feel like I'm marching to my doom. He takes me to his room, goes to the closet, and opens it, rooting around in there.  
  
    "Dad...?" My voice is tiny.  
  
    "You know how you were talking about swimsuit models earlier?" Dad asks in a slightly wry voice.  
  
    He takes out a magazine and throws it on the bed. I look at it.  
  
    "Oh jeez, what!?" I blink. It's Dad on the cover! He's as young as I am right now, posing disinterestedly on the cover of a swimsuit magazine.  
  
    "Yup," Dad scratches at his cheek. "After high school, I had to do what I could to make ends meet. And modeling was easy, so easy. Silver foxes are highly marketable; so they told me."  
  
    I flip through the magazine out of morbid curiosity. All of the poses look kinda samey; they make my dad look tough and stern.  
  
    "You uh, you don't look very happy," I notice.  
  
    Dad holds up two fingers. "True on two levels. I wasn't, and they didn't  _want_ me to be."  
  
    "Wh-why not?" My eyes open in concern.  
  
    Dad gives me a smile. It's his genuine, happy smile. I do see it kind of a lot. "They thought that a happy-looking dark-furred fox was a contradiction. Sort of like seeing Ram Beaux giving a big ol' smile, you know? They wanted me to play up the tough-guy angle."  
  
    "But you said you weren't happy about it," I pursue, handing him the magazine back. Dad puts it away.  
  
    "Nope," Dad shakes his head. "I didn't like being used only for the uniqueness of my features. That's why I don't think you can be happy with Jessica."  
  
    "Because you think- because she just wants to use me," I look at the ground.  
  
    Dad walks over and gets down on his haunches, looking up at me and tilting my muzzle up to look at him.  
  
    "Cindy told me that Jessica comes across as very material and 'possessive' on her social media," Dad looks at me in concern. This feels like a spear jab. It always seems like everyone knows more than me. "After what you told me tonight, I don't think she wants what's in here," he taps me on my chest, "but what's in here." He then taps me on my muzzle, making it scrunch in confusion.  
  
    "Wait, what?" I blink.  
  
    Dad chuckles and stands up. "As far as interspecies couples go... girls do tend to like the canines." He curls his tongue around most of his muzzle.  
  
    "Oh, right," I return a nervous laugh. "Well, I didn't do _that_. ...You think it's what she's after?"  
  
    "Pretty sure," Dad sighs. "You deserve better. You deserve someone that wants what's in your heart."  
  
    "...Blood?" I smirk. "So like, a vampire bat?"  
  
    "Okay, you smart-Alex," Dad suddenly gives a snarky smile and drags me into a hug, making me yip. I don't struggle, though. I hug back. It's a nice hug, and definitely the best one I've gotten all day.  
  
    "Thanks, Dad," I say.  
  
    "Mm hm," Dad gives me a squeeze, then releases me.  
  
    "Uh, any advice on how to dump her...?" I ask meekly, holding a hooked finger up tentatively.  
  
    Dad laughs. "I'd ask one of your mothers. Catherine can be really biting, but Vivian might tell you how to cut to the chase and take her down to the main issue." He suddenly looks concerned. "Uh, don't tell them I said that."  
  
    "Okay, Dad," I have a bright smile as I leave his room. I'm wandering to my own room when I hear commotion coming from my sister's.  
  
    "Crap! Uh, can you heal me again?" A female voice. I think that's Ellie, Cindy's cow friend. "I'm on death's door!"  
  
    "Yeah, yeah, sure!" Male voice. That's Rick, a woodchuck. "I'm almost out of mana..."  
  
    I peek into the room. Three pairs of eyes look at me curiously. There's indeed Ellie and Rick sitting on the other side of the playing field, with my sister at the head.  
  
    "Hello, Alex," Cindy's eyes half-lid. Her mouth is fixed in a neutral expression.  
  
    "Hey! Uh..." I stammer. "Jh-just wondering if maybe it was too late for a little deus ex machina on my part...?"  
  
    "Heck, I'd want him in just because he knows what that _means_ ," Rick grins at my sister.  
  
    "Hmm," Cindy gives a devilish smile and holds up a pencil. "Sure, I guess I can 'pencil' you in."  
  
    I smile. My sister is such a dweeb.


	14. Cinderella Reddish

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cindy shows up before this in the Different Tail "Atypical", where she is ostensibly the main character.

    Another day at Zootopia University. I shouldn't write that with such resignation, but it has become a slog. All the studying and dull classes I have to put myself through, just so I can get a generalized degree to "get a job" to support myself until I can become what I  _really_ want to become.  
  
    A novelist.  
  
    I stare blankly at the flashing cursor on my laptop in the morning, then decisively close it with an audible note of disgust. My new rough draft is getting nowhere. I make sure I have all my materials together and ready for the day, then I go get my shower.  
  
    After the shower, I stare at the gray-furred vixen in the mirror. A long sigh oozes out of my muzzle. I almost whine.  
  
    What's happened to you, Cindy?  
  
    Now, I'm not _fat_ , but I'm definitely not thin. I think I'm a little overweight compared to the average girl. When a mammal normally thinks of a vixen, what comes to your mind? A lithe mammal who's sleek, slim, sensual, slick, and sly, right? I'm basically none of those things. It almost seems like a waste; I've got this unusual color coat and this is what I've done to myself? Ugh. Trying to balance college and what passes for my social and private life has left me devoid of any time to work out or watch what I eat. I decide on a loose, long-sleeved shirt; it hides the fact that I'm not the most  _svelte_ vixen.  
  
    I almost bump into my roommate when she heads to the bathroom for her own morning routine. All of those things I said about a typical vixen? That's her. Well, "typical" is perhaps a bit of a loaded word to just throw at someone haphazardly, but all of those things do fit her. She even has a more standard fur coloration, that typical fiery orange that everyone loves. Her eyes are like mine, but  _really_ yellow. Like, almost piercingly so; bewitching. She is attractive, fun, and popular.  
  
    Cosmic coincidence also dictated that her name just  _had_ to be "Cyndi".  
  
    So yes, we're the two Cindys, and I'm not that fond of it. There's a red Cyndi and a gray Cindy. There's an introverted Cindy and an extroverted Cyndi. Sometimes it feels like there's a "right" Cyndi and a "wrong" Cindy.  
  
    Cyndi spends a lot of time brushing her fur in the morning. She touches up her cheek fur, fluffing herself. She's pretty concerned about her personal appearance, but when you look good, I suppose it's in your interest to maintain it. Especially if you're a popular vixen like she is.  
  
    "Oh, Rella?" My roommate calls out to me without taking her eyes off the mirror. She checks her phone. "I got a plus one for the party tonight. You want to come?"  
  
    I try not to flinch in surprise. I mean, it's not too uncommon for her to talk to me, but we're basically of two different worlds.  
  
    "I'll pass," I say, and I get a small, neutral hum of confirmation in return as she finishes getting herself ready.  
  
    "Catcha later, Rella," Cyndi gives me a small smile as she heads out the front door. "Try not to trash the place when I'm out tonight."  
  
    That's a joke... I think. I smirk back before letting my face slump back into its resting line.  
  
    "Rella". I still don't quite know how I feel about that. At first she thought it was amazing we were both named "Cindy", and was eager to learn that mine was actually short for "Cinderella". "Oh, like the princess!" Yup, like the princess. But I'd rather be writing about them than being treated like one, to be honest. I guess that because our names did have that small difference she wanted to underscore it verbally, since her name isn't actually a nickname.  
  
    My classes are utterly dull today. Not to say they aren't challenging, because they are, but my attention wanders and I find myself having to yank myself back from daydreaming at several points. I'm trying to resolve this one plot hole that's formed in my latest story. It's one of those plot holes that threatens to undermine the whole thing if I let it go unchecked, and I don't know if I can just fill it with a few paragraphs. It might take a fundamental rewrite. This is the type of thing that's really creatively draining.  
  
    But I do yank myself back. I'm not at college to indulge in my fantasies, I'm here to learn.  
  
    Well, more accurately, I'm here to get a piece of paper that says I'm qualified to do a basic job. This, in turn, will hopefully sustain me until my writing isn't something that most mammals will want to wipe their tailholes with.  
  
    I'm already tired when I get home, but I do my homework and studies like a diligent little vixen. No Cyndi to bother me with anything, though she's usually not  _that_ much of a bother. After I get all of my obligations out of the way, including probably a bit too much fast food, I navigate to my rough draft on my laptop again and stare at it.  
  
    With a resigned growl, I shut it again after less than five minutes.  
  
    I'm a creative girl, I swear. But nearly the last thing I want to do after a day of soul-crushing education is sit there and force myself to  _think_ more. What do I want to do, video games? That's a thought; maybe I'll play something mindless like a hack and slash. Maybe I could DM for my friends. We're on a pretty low-key campaign right now; just something to keep our creative spirit on a low boil while working through college. I take out my phone and group message my friends.  
  
    With as few close friends as I have, it's a big blessing that both Ricky  _and_ Ellie were admitted to Zootopia University as well. I ask if anyone's down to role play tonight.  
  
    Ellie shoots back in a couple of minutes. She can't. It's kind of a bummer; she's having an even harder time than I am with college. She's very devoted to her journalism studies, but like me her mind can tend to wander. She idolizes Clara Cattlebelle of that one celebrity gossip program that I forget the name of. If Ellie becomes the  _second_ major cow in celebrity gossip, I hope her spin on things is a little less... trashy.  
  
    Ricky can come over, but the campaign really doesn't work without both of them there. I suggest for the two of us to play some cards instead. He says sure.  
  
    Finally, a little socialization between friends. I don't see them enough. I may be introverted, but I do treasure my friends and wish we could hang out more.  
  
    Rick comes over, and I admit him into the dorm room. He's got this white and blue plaid collared shirt on. It's so strange that he looks so professional but insists on being called Ricky now, like we're supposed to keep things informal with him. Unlike Ellie or me, Ricky has it together. He was very nearly valedictorian at our high school, so he was offered a scholarship. He's going to be an engineer. Of what, I don't know, but I have no doubt he will, indeed, be an engineer.  
  
    "Hi, Cindy," he greets me, his deck of cards in both paws. For some reason he refuses to use rodent-sized cards. He leaps up to the table, which is low to the floor, and sets the deck on top.  
  
    "Hi, Ricky," I smile at my little woodchuck friend. I tower over him now, even though I'm not especially tall for a vixen. I mean, groundhogs are pretty tall for rodents, capybaras notwithstanding, but I'm still twice his size. He grew up quicker, as prey often do, and it's seemed like I've just continued to grow past him. First up, and now out. But I should stop thinking about that.  
  
    "How was your day?" Ricky asks. He's very easy to talk to, and I think of him almost like a confidant. If I had to pick between my two friends to assuage my loneliness, I'd almost always pick Ricky. Ellie strays on the side of being gregarious and extroverted, but she really doesn't have much time for parties.  
  
    I sigh. "Draining." I set my own deck of cards out on the table and we set things up for a game. I almost forget to add a few cards that counter his usual strategy. I like to mount a solid offense with creatures, buff them up, and sweep the game. Ricky's a little more insidious. He prefers to disable, drain, and otherwise destroy strategies his opponents are building up. For someone who reveres the mouse Celestial, Industry, and who will be going into a career that requires structure and order, he sure likes destroying my carefully laid plans.  
  
    "Just like my deck, huh?" Ricky replies, as if he can read my mind. Or maybe he just caught me adding the cards to my deck. We shuffle and begin.  
  
    "I'm kind of sorry that Ellie couldn't make it," I say early into the game. "I feel like she could use a break."  
  
    "No doubt," Ricky nods his agreement. His cards look almost a little comical as he holds them; I suppose I would too if I was trying to delicately hold a hand of rodent-sized cards in my paw. "You hear she might have to go into the dairy industry right out of college?"  
  
    "Ugh, _really_?" I suck at my teeth. "I thought she was trying to avoid just being a 'typical' cow."  
  
    "It's not really her fault," Ricky looks at me as he plays a card that essentially neutralizes the attack power of my vanguard creature. "She's going to have quite a student loan to pay off when this is all through. Her breed is known for its high milk capacity. It's easy money."  
  
    "Tch, her 'breed'," I look off to the side. "Easy money. Yeah, that's what I'm after, too. I wish she didn't have to compromise like that."  
  
    "She just needs a few years to make ends meet, I think," Ricky says. He scratches his ear. "You know, until she gets her break."  
  
    "If she does," I mutter, drawing a card. Yes! It's a perfect counterspell to his favorite strategy, resource destruction. It'll damage him for a decent amount if he tries to destroy any of my resources, and I know he doesn't have too many of those cards in his deck. I try to keep my best poker face as I slip the card into my hand.  
  
    "Speaking of breaks," Ricky says, and my heart flutters, as if he already knows what card I drew, "she says she's waiting for yours. I bet she wants to read your first novel while she's messing around with all that dairy business." Ricky smiles. He's a swell guy, friendly and caring.  
  
    "Rgh," I grind my teeth in irritation. "It's going to be awhile, I can tell you that much."  
  
    "You want me to look over your latest stuff?" Ricky asks as we continue playing.  
  
    "No, definitely not," I shake my head firmly. "It's trash."  
  
    "You're your own worst critic," Ricky scolds me, "maybe I should be the judge of whether it's 'trash' or not." Ricky's made some lucky draws in our game and I'm already on the ropes.  
  
    "It's 'standard fantasy', Ricky," I groan dramatically. " _Standard fantasy_. Do you know how ridiculous that phrase is? That we're to the point in our civilization where when we think of 'fantasy', our mind instantly goes to a set of creatures and themes? Dragons, fae, apes... all of that stuff. It's... it's boring! And I'm writing it!"  
  
    "Whoa, easy there, girl," Ricky holds his free hand up defensively.  
  
    I bring my own free paw up to my forehead and rub it. "I think I need a new angle."  
  
    "How about..." Ricky looks off into space, "...a romance?"  
  
    "Just... a romance," I huff.  
  
    "No no, with a twist," Ricky taps his claw on the back of his cards. "Like... a mortal mammal and a ghost."  
  
    "What?" I scrunch up my muzzle. The idea deflects off of my skull, then sweeps around back into it and bores right in. "Wait, wait... like, so the mortal mammal... wait." I stare at the ground, blinking. "So the mortal mammal maybe wants to like... they want to die, right? Because they know the ghost is waiting for them in the afterlife and have proof of that. But the  _ghost_ doesn't want them to waste their life and tries to encourage them to stay alive and live, saying they'll be waiting for them..."  
  
    "I'd read it," Ricky shrugs. "I came up with that idea in like one minute and you've already made it sound compelling." He smiles. "You'll write a bestseller sometime, Cindy, I know it." He plays a card and I smile at him. It's my turn, and-  
  
    Oh _crap_! He destroyed one of my resources, and I'm one off of casting a spell I need to bring down the creature he's set up! I give a frustrated groan.  
  
    "Problem?" Ricky smirks.  
  
    "Sure is," I say, sighing. "I had the counterspell in my freakin' paw, and I didn't play it. Now you're going to win next turn and I have no moves."  
  
    Ricky chuckles, his smile growing wider. "You want to maybe go back a turn, then?" He rotates a claw in a circle.  
  
    " _No_ , I'm not taking a mulligan," I roll my eyes. "You win. I made a mistake; a mistake I even  _planned_ against, so you win. It's fair." I place my cards down and sigh, folding my arms.  
  
    "Are you okay, Cindy?" Ricky sets his own cards down gently, leaning in inquisitively. "You seem a little distracted. You have whole worlds running around in your head and you missed an obvious play like that?"  
  
    "I dunno, Ricky; I just don't know if I'm cut out for this college thing," I mumble, gesturing flippantly.  
  
    "You are; you can make it," Ricky says firmly.  
  
    "I just feel lonely sometimes, even though you and Ellie are here for me whenever," I frown. "I don't understand why."  
  
    "Do you miss your family?" Ricky shrugs. "Living away from them can be tough, especially because I know you love them to bits. Maybe you should visit."  
  
    "I mean, I guess so," I'm having a hard time looking at Ricky. "I just- I dunno. I bet I'd just get annoyed with Alex and his stupid face."  
  
    "Ah," Ricky huffed in amusement. "Right, Alex. If I remember right he got a job right out of high school because one of his friend's uncles needed someone to work in their brand new comic shop."  
  
    "It not fair, don't you think?" I shake my head subtly. "We have to do all this work to get validation and he just... you know? Right out of high school." I make a little thrust of my paw.  
  
    "A bit petty, Cindy," Ricky frowns at me. "You're going to be a famous writer someday and your brother's going to be in a hobby shop. Who'll history remember?"  
  
    "A famous writer, right," I roll my eyes. "How many can you name off the top of your head? And J. K. Deerling doesn't count."  
  
    Ricky doesn't answer and just stares at me for a few seconds. I don't relent, so he goes ahead and speaks. "Something else is bothering you about Alex, isn't it?"  
  
    I reflexively start to rub the golden band of the ring I wear on the middle finger on my right hand. It's a ring topped with an aquamarine. Alex has one too, but his has a sapphire on it. All three of my parents have one as well, and that leaves two unclaimed...  
  
    "Is it about Mina?" Ricky wonders. "His girlfriend?" My face scrunches and I wince. "Are you jealous of him?"  
  
    "...Ugh," I close my eyes, nodding. "Yup. Last I heard, he wants to give her the emerald ring. He says it goes with her eyes."  
  
    "Whoa, then it must be serious," Ricky looks impressed.  
  
    "Yeah," I frown. "Heck, I think our parents are even going to _allow_ him to give it to her..."  
  
    "Do you think she's not  _right_ for him?" Ricky wonders, looking confused.  
  
    "No..." I sigh, "she's  _perfect_ for him. After that mess he went through with Jessica, he was  _really_ careful choosing his next girlfriend." A mental image of Mina, that cheerful little red panda, flashes in my head. "She's smart, cute, bubbly, and sweet. She's so  _right_ for him _and_ they look really cute together."  
  
    "So that just gets you down because you're single?" Ricky scratches the side of his head. "We're still young, Cindy. We have time to find someone right for us."  
  
    "Why should _he_ be so lucky?" I mutter bitterly.  
  
    "Well, he did go through that stuff with Jessica, like you said," Ricky gathers up his cards and shuffles them idly.  
  
    "Oh right, it was only  _all of us in the family_ that warned him about her," I remind Ricky sarcastically.  
  
    "You gotta learn some things for yourself, Cindy," Ricky shrugs. "And he did learn a hard lesson. Maybe Karma figured she owed him one."  
  
    I laugh, scornfully at first, but it starts to be more like a needed relief after awhile.  
  
    "Ricky, did I ever tell you how  _weird_ it is that you believe in the Celestials?" I smile, my eyes a little glassy. He's such a silly little guy.  
  
    "Many times," Ricky nods sagely.  
  
    "I mean, you're a mammal of science," I hold out a paw at him, palm-up.  
  
    "And you're a mammal of fantasy," he returns, giving a cocky smile. "In the limitless depths of imagination, don't you ever come up with creatures somewhat like the Celestials?"  
  
    "I mean, maybe? But there's no proof that such beings actually exist," I shake my head.  
  
    "Not in the terms or rules that we have and follow," Ricky stretches lazily. "But perhaps there are other rule books. Ones that we can't read, ones we can't even comprehend the specifications of. Ones we can't begin to know how to even find. Dimensions folded in on themselves, perhaps a whole universe right in this room. Perhaps one created and destroyed by our act of playing this very card game. We won't know. We can't know." He gesticulates grandiosely at the table and the room as he speaks. He's a passionate mammal; that's why its so fun to role play with him.  
  
    "Sometimes I think you should be the writer," I say in a droll voice, balancing my paw on my chin. "Or at least a psychologist."  
  
    "Hey, I'm going to build up _buildings_ , and I will thank Industry for that," Ricky smiles, "but building up friends is something I do because I want to."  
  
    "I mean... can I just...?" I stammer, getting up and walking over. Ricky shrugs and nods, and I pick him up and lift him so I can hug him. I even add a little nuzzle. I'm not really attracted to him, but he is a great friend. Ricky takes the hug in stride; he's not attracted to me, either, and he's a much less physical person than Ellie or me. But he tolerates us, and that's what makes him so special. I feel like telling him this, but it's perhaps something I'll write to him later. "Thanks, Ricky."  
  
    "I should get going," Ricky says, jerking his thumb at the door. "Gotta study."  
  
    "Of course," I nod, smiling.  
  
    He starts to leave and halts, turning around and pointing at me. "Remember what I said. If you need to recharge your batteries, maybe go home and get some time in with your family. They're four of your best friends, you know."  
  
    "I know, but I'm grateful for you too, Ricky," I smile. He barely smiles in return; his humility sometimes gets to be a little frustrating, actually. It's hard for him to take a compliment. He leaves, and I'm alone again, but I feel better than before, even though I lost because I was a scatterbrained little ninny.  
  
    I get into my night clothes as it gets to be further on in the evening. They're a little tight on me, but I guess they're not  _so_ bad. I guess  _I'm_ not so bad. That's something I keep having to remind myself, but it is true. My mind's buzzing a little; I really like the idea of that ghost romance; I'll give it some more thought when I have some more time. I look at some pictures in my phone and realize I probably am a little homesick. Ugh, I even have one with Alex and Mina. They're  _really_ cute together. Alex's colors mesh well with a red panda's. He's a sweetheart, and so is she. If I wrote about  _their_ love story it'd probably be so saccharine that no one would take it seriously.  
  
    The door opens, and I instinctively put my phone down before someone catches that I'm gawking over my little brother's perfect romance. It's Cyndi, and she looks haggard.  
  
    "Wow, you look smashed," I say with a dry voice. She's been drunk before, but-  
  
    "Ngh... gh-" Her face scrunches and her eyes squint, and she starts to well up. I shudder in sudden fear. I misread her; she's not drunk, she's upset!  
  
    "Whoa, whoa, sorry- sorry!" I wave my hands. "I didn't mean it!" I get up and walk over to her. I'm expecting her to brush past me and go into her room and sob, but she seems to  _really_ be fighting her tears back. "Um... what's wrong?"  
  
    Cyndi stares at the ceiling, as if demanding gravity put the tears back into her eyes. "Party was a bust."  
  
    "Are you okay?" I hope I sound concerned. I feel a bit too afraid to touch her, though.  
  
    "It was- it was my stupid boyfriend," Cyndi charges past me and pours herself a glass of water. She sips it slowly. I stand there nervously, not knowing what to say. I put my paws to my sides after I catch myself fidgeting with them.  
  
    "Did he hurt you...?" I ask in a tiny voice.  
  
    "Not physically," Cyndi sneers. "Ugh, he was... that  _fox_ was with this maned wolf girl."  
  
    "He was cheating on you...?" My voice gets even weaker somehow.  
  
    "Yeah, I guess so!" Cyndi looks incredulous. "But it's worse than that. The maned wolf, she's a real 'alpha', you know?" Cyndia sucks at her teeth. "My boyfri- no, _ex_ , my  _ex_ says to me that he wants a three-way with me and the maned wolf. Can you imagine?"  
  
    My stomach turns a bit, but probably not for the reason she'd think. I sit down on the couch, where I've spent a lot of the evening already.  
  
    Cyndi finishes her water, then, to my surprise, she flumps down on the couch next to me.  
  
    "Hey, Rella," she starts quietly. The tone is gentle, but inquisitive.  
  
    "Yeah?" I don't look at her.  
  
    "You-" Cyndi interrupts herself and look away. "Your parents. You have three, right?"  
  
    "Ugh, _yes_ , Cyndi," I mutter defensively, folding my arms tightly and rolling my eyes. "But if you're going to rag on them because of their 'debauched'-"  
  
    "No no," Cyndi says quietly, sniffling. There's a small lull before she calms again and continues. "They're... still all together, right?"  
  
    "...They are," I nod.  
  
    "How do they do it?" Cyndi seems curious, maybe even desperate. I look at her skeptically.  
  
    "You're not thinking of taking him _back_ , are you?" My eyes narrow.  
  
    "Just... how does it work?" Cyndi rubs her arm. "Do they all like... what do they do?"  
  
    "...They all have to _want_ it, for one," I say plainly. Cyndi nods, then nods some more, getting quicker. She's quiet for a time. I hold my paws out in a conciliatory way. My mouth falters before I speak again. "I mean, I don't want more than one mate, for example." Cyndi looks quizzical. "What? I don't think being polyamorous is hereditary." I chuckle. Cyndi's quiet again, thinking seriously.  
  
    "There was something about that maned wolf," Cyndi winces. "Something _predatory_ , like _really_." Unlike me, Cyndi's pretty good at reading people, from what I've seen. "I... I'm not into girls, but even if I was, I think she'd be pretty dominant, you know? Kinda... force me into doing stuff?"  
  
    "You don't want that in your partner," I reply, rather obviously.  
  
    "No..." Cyndi shrugs, giving a weak smirk. "I kinda wanna be that girl. Toy with my boy, you know. Be the tease, make him beg."  
  
    I roll my eyes. "I get you."  
  
    "But it kinda hurts to know I wasn't _enough_ for him, you know?" Cyndi frowns. "That she was... better? And that he wants even more besides that..."  
  
    "Yeah, I'd think you're enough vixen for any guy," I shrug. Cyndi gives a weak chuckle in reply, and her smile looks unforced.  
  
    "Hey, next time I get a party invite," Cyndi pushes me a little, "like... a  _different_ party invite, without that idiot... come with, okay?"  
  
    "Are we friends now?" I smile wryly.  
  
    "Psh, duh!" Cyndi rolls her own eyes, her own smile getting easier. "You're cool."  
  
    "Why do you want _me_ to go to a party?" I'm sure I look confused. "I'm an introvert. My ears would probably pin back and stay that way for the whole thing."  
  
    "You need to come out of that shell a little, girl!" Cyndi pats me on the back.  
  
    "That's not really... how it works," I wince. "I have this social budget, y'know, and... ugh, it's hard to explain."  
  
    "Just one party?" She gives me cutesy eyes.  
  
    "Why is this so important?" I frown.  
  
    "I wanna..." She bites her lip. "See if I can set you up with someone." This takes me completely by surprise, and I grab my arm defensively.  
  
    "What...? Why?" I recoil. Then, my eyes shift a bit. "Psh, like you'd know what type of mammal I'm after."  
  
    Cyndi grins. "Well, I know she'd have to be pretty special, for one."  
  
    "What do you mean 'she'!?" I scrunch my muzzle. I probably look a little angry.  
  
    "Am I wrong?" Cyndi suddenly looks really confident. Her face breaks into looking a little defeated. "C'mon, Rella... I just need to make sure my foxy radar is still working, okay?"  
  
    "...Tch," I look down. "Yeah, I like girls."  
  
    "Nice!" Cyndi grins, pumping her fist. "Tall prey girls, right?"  
  
    "W-w-what!?" I stammer.  
  
    "Okay," Cyndi smiles brightly. "Okay, here's why I wondered... cause there's this _deer_ , right? A doe, a female deer. And-"  
  
    "If you say her name is Reye, and that she's a drop of golden sun, I swear-" I half-lid my eyes.  
  
    Cyndi laughs brightly. "See Rella, this is why I like you. You're funny. No no, her name is Allison, and she's usually off by herself at the party, turning down guys, but giving _me_ looks. Maybe she's into vixens, you know? I wonder if I could get you with her!"  
  
    "...What would that accomplish?" My stomach has butterflies.  
  
    "C'mon, just let me hook you up," Cyndi pouts. "I'd get some of that... whats the word? Vicarious? Yeah, that. Vicarious enjoyment. I'd get that out of knowing my instincts aren't wrong."  
  
    "I'll... I'll think about it," I get up, dodging her glance. "I'm going to bed."  
  
    "Okay, let me know!" Cyndi smiles, then it breaks and she looks sad again. Her kind... just draws energy from being in social situations. Maybe I'm important to her in a way... staving off the crushing loneliness that comes when she can't recharge her batteries off of someone else. Maybe we're similar in more ways than our name.  
  
    As I try to relax in bed, I try not to think about this mysterious "Allison", and instead try to think of my family. Who am I going to listen to? Ricky, who's been my best friend for like forever and has a smart head on his small shoulders, or Cyndi, who's a party girl that... well, she has a  _pretty_ head on her shoulders, but...  
  
    I mean, I guess I could give  _one_ party a try. One.


	15. Mina Primhue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This character is original to the "A Day in Their Fur" storyline, so all references in this chapter relate to previous chapters here.

    Yes! _Finally_ , it's the day I've been waiting for!  
  
    I'm up nice and early to get ready, making sure my fur is good and fluffed before I zoom out of the door of my apartment. Have I got everything? Self? Check. Camera? Check. Smile? Check! Okay, I'm gone!  
  
    Okay, maybe I was a little  _too_ enthusiastic. I arrive at the studio way earlier than I'm supposed to. The guy I'm supposed to shadow isn't here yet; bummer. I hope my enthusiasm doesn't wear off before I realize how tired I am. Coffee, I'm counting on you to keep me lively!  
  
    Before long a big panda walks over toward me, and I wave enthusiastically at him. He nods and gives me an appraising look. I stand up straight, trying to look professional.  
  
    "Good morning," he greets. "Mina Primhue?"  
  
    "Yes!" I nod enthusiastically. "Good morning, mister..."  
  
    "Peter Meadow, but please, just call me Peter," he says. His voice is smooth and wizened. I feel like he must be about forty. I don't catch a friendly vibe from him, but he does sound courteous. He looks over my camera. "Nice gear."  
  
    "Oh, thank you!" I smile. "This is my most prized possession." I hold up my camera delicately.  
  
    He motions me to walk with him. We make our way through some dressing rooms and studios. One studio is going to be set up for a shoot, and I hope that's where he's going to be training me. I've never been so excited; I've loved photography since I was a little girl, and now I actually have a paid internship to photograph _models_!  
  
    "I notice you don't have an eastern accent," Peter says conversationally as we walk. Being fair, he doesn't either.  
  
    "Oh, no sir," I grin. "I'm a third-generation Zootopian. I mean, Primhue? That's not an eastern name."  
  
    "Nor is 'Meadow'," Peter smiles faintly. "I guess we have something in common, then."  
  
    "Besides both being pandas!" I add cheerfully.  
  
    He gives an amused snort. "You are a red panda, Mina. You're closer to a raccoon than a panda."  
  
    I shrug with a smile.  
  
    He clears his throat as he starts to check on some of the cameras and lighting equipment. "Tell me, Mina. What does photography  _mean_ to you?"  
  
    "It's my favorite thing!" I say enthusiastically. "It's so artful; you can show everyone the world in its natural splendor by taking a crisp, vivid picture."  
  
    "Mm, very good," Peter nods, barely looking at me. "However, what we do here with models is not art, it's more of a math equation."  
  
    I'm sure I must look perplexed. He towers over me and nods his head to the model coming in. It's a tigress!  
  
    "I thought it would be proper to warn you early on," Peter says. "There's steady work to be done here in a modelling agency, but I don't know if you could call it 'art'. If you want art, there's always freelance photography. But that can be very hit or miss if you don't get picked up by a company. Even if you are... well, one day they might not need you anymore. It's very hand-to-mouth, and you must hone your skills to survive."  
  
    "Um, yes sir, Peter," I nod. I actually feel a lot more nervous than I did a few minutes ago. "Can- can you elaborate a little on that?"  
  
    "Mm," Peter nods. He gestures over to the model. "You'll notice our model is a tigress."  
  
    "Mmhm!" I smile brightly at her, and she waves and smiles back. She looks very personable.  
  
    "My name's Tanya!" The tigress offers.  
  
    "Okay, now..." Peter gestures to her again, then looks at me. "What strikes you about her as compared to a typical tigress?"  
  
    "Ah..." I look at her, attempting to be critical. I'm worried I'll offend her, but I just say the first things that come to my mind. "She's kind of petite? She's got a thinner face than most- it actually makes her look kinda cute!"  
  
    Tanya's face softens dramatically and she gives me an honest smile. It warms me that she took it as a compliment.  
  
    "Mm," Peter considers this, rubbing her chin. "So, how do you think we would leverage that, then?"  
  
    "Um..." I search the ground with my eyes before looking back up at my trainer. "Well, we could use brighter colors that contrast her appearance and have her show us some big, happy smiles?"  
  
    Peter shakes his head. "No, that is not what we do."  
  
    I tilt my head in confusion.  
  
    "Here's where the math comes in, Mina," Peter holds an index finger up, pointing to the camera. "What is the average opinion of a tigress?"  
  
    "They're... uh..." I try to think. "Brave? Powerful? St-stripey?"  
  
    Peter chuckles. "Yes. They are liquid power. That power flows around their strong muscles, and they are a very large predator. What we do not want to do is challenge the views of anyone that wants to look at a tigress."  
  
    I shoot a nervous look at Tanya, who Peter's just kind of talking about like she doesn't fit the bill of what the average tigress is? I feel kind of concerned, but she looks just as eager to please as I am to learn. Maybe she's new, too?  
  
    "We want that power from Tanya," Peter says, clenching a fist. "From a panda, we want the curves, the voluptuousness, the easy, lax eyes. From a fox, the litheness, the sweep, the slyness. There is something we want from each species, and this is why the agency wants that mammal as the model."  
  
    "I see..." I blink a few times. "Isn't that just reinforcing stereotypes, though?"  
  
    "Maybe so," Peter nods, "but unless the market changes, we give the market what it wants." He looks back over to Tanya. "So. How do we get power from a smaller tigress?"  
  
    "I don't know," I admit after trying to think about it.  
  
    "You have the key yourself," Peter grins. "Lower angles. A smaller animal like you can take a lower angled shot much easier. Make her look like a tower. Make her look strong and rippling. Make her breathe that tiger confidence."  
  
    "Okay," I nod, getting my camera ready.  
  
    "Also," Peter holds up a finger again. "For your next model, you should be more careful with your words."  
  
    "I- what?" I look baffled, I'm sure. Tanya starts giggling after she looks at my face.  
  
    "When you called her cute," Peter clarifies.  
  
    "Oh, I'm sorry!" I wince at Tanya. "Is that condescending?" Tanya closes her mouth and giggles again.  
  
    Peter shakes his head. "Our words are tools we use to bring out what we want from our subjects. Like a fresh coat of paint, though, they are the most potent on their first application. If we wanted 'cute' from Tanya, we wasted our best chance."  
  
    "Ah, I get it," I nod. There's so much to learn!  
  
    "Now, see if you can capture Tanya in the way a tiger should be caught," Peter says. "Afterward, we'll compare your pictures to some of the past issues of our magazine and we can compare and contrast."  
  
    "Can you give me fierce, Tanya?" I ask nicely. She giggles once more, but then her face transforms. Her brow comes down and she puts on a positively powerful smirk. She looks very confident, and has jumped from really cute to something like sensually dangerous with just her face! I take some pictures. She gives me a lot of different poses, some sidelong, some with her stripey back facing us, which really emphasizes the backless swimsuit, I think. I try to take low angled shots like I was told so it seems like her form towers in the shot. I think I'm doing pretty well.  
  
    But, predictably, I didn't do that great. I mean, it takes a little of the wind out of my sails, sure, but ouch! I still have a lot to learn. I know I'm a newbie, so I'll improve if I stick with it!  
  
    As I walk through the streets of Savannah Central, I'm thinking about my first real day on my internship, getting to work with a real model and all. I don't know if I feel disappointed, but maybe a little disillusioned? I have a great love for photography, and Tanya was really pretty and nice and patient and all, and I feel like Peter is really smart. But... I dunno. That warning about how model shooting is more like a math equation than an art just gives me this weird feeling of "wrongness".  
  
    Anyway, I'm standing in front of the Shadowfox Collectibles store, and I find my smile again. I don't tend to stay down long, especially because I know who's inside this shop. I sneak in very carefully. The bell on the door sounds, but the super handsome cross fox behind the register doesn't react. He's really focused on creating this little scene with miniatures from a tabletop game. I sneak around one of the aisles undetected, taking out my camera. I love getting candid shots of this fox! He's also a little short for a fox, but he's still at least my height and a half. I stand at the far end of the aisle and adjust the lens of the camera. Almost got a great shot of him, so focused and determined!  
  
    Just a few more moments and...  
  
    "Sniper, no sniping," he says, looking directly at me. Shoot! A second too slow!  
  
    "Aw, darn it!" I stamp a foot and start walking closer to him. "Alex...! I wanted a candid shot! I thought you didn't notice me come in."  
  
    "I can smell you, Mina," Alex chuckles. "I'm a fox."  
  
    "I keep forgetting," I giggle. "Though that didn't help you in a certain squad-based online FPS we play..." My voice titters mockingly.  
  
    "Do you _have_ to keep bringing that up?" Alex chuckles, looking at me wryly. "Just because you got five head shots on me that one round when I was playing the fastest character in the game-"  
  
    "Seven!" I correct him sternly. "It was _seven_ head shots."  
  
    "Was it _really_?" Alex groans in fatigue.  
  
    "I have a screenshot," I smile deviously.  
  
    "Well, you seem to like rubbing it in," Alex chuckles, leaning over the counter to give me half-lidded eyes.  
  
    "Hey, if I hadn't  _thoroughly dominated you_ in that round," I start, to his immediate eye roll, "you never would have added me to your friends list and messaged me with all that gushing about how much you respected my skills. Then, things wouldn't have progressed, we wouldn't have met once we figured out we both lived pretty close to each other, and I wouldn't be staring at a pretty cross fox right now!"  
  
    Though I don't know if he precisely likes being called "pretty", his face does soften, and I'm ready with my camera when it does, snapping a picture. In my defense, he  _is_ pretty. He's got a lot of red and black on him compared to a typical red fox; in some superficial ways he even resembles a nice, tall red panda! Okay, maybe not quite. But I love him and his big blue eyes all the same.  
  
    "All right, all right," Alex rolls his eyes. "'Thank you' for shooting me in the face seven times. Happy now?"  
  
    "That's all I wanted...!" I try to say this seriously, but my voice wavers in amusement a little.  
  
    "Okay, my little shutterbug," Alex reaches over to ruffle my headfur. "How was your first day as a protege?"  
  
    "Ah..." I give a guilty smile. "It was okay?"  
  
    "Not everything you dreamed about?" Alex's smile weakens.  
  
    "If you want me to be honest," I tap my foot, looking down. "It's kinda like, you know how something you really expect to be one way is kind of... completely different?"  
  
    "Yup," Alex says solidly with a lingering nod.  
  
    "Yeah, it's kind of like that," I laugh nervously. "I need to stick with it though, for the credit. And there's a lot I can learn!"  
  
    "My dad didn't like the modelling industry that much," Alex considers, looking distant, "I didn't know it could be bad from the other side of the camera."  
  
    "Oh it's not bad... just..." I try to find the right word, "standardized?"  
  
    "Huh," Alex nods. The door opens and a bell rings, and to my surprise, another fox enters, one I've never seen before.  
  
    She's got light blue eyes, and she looks like either a young gray fox or a kit fox. I always mix those two up. She's wearing a skirt, and this  _really_ brightly colored shirt with neon yellows, oranges, and greens. She has a modest and kind of cute small black vest on over her shirt.  
  
    "Nice place you got here!" The vixen greets. She plants her hands on her hips and looks up at Alex.  
  
    "Can I help you with something?" Alex asks with a friendly tone.  
  
    "Yeah, I'm HalfEsper!" She says cheerfully. I flinch.  
  
    Okay, I'm sure it's probably nothing at all. But here comes this cutie patootie little fox who spouts some sort of username right at Alex when she walks into the shop he works at. ...That's _exactly_ what I did when I met him for the first time! Alex realizes this and shakes his paw at me to tell me there's nothing to worry about. I look at him, narrowing one eye. That was a little spooky...  
  
    "Well that was fast," Alex smirks. "I just got your request like, a few hours ago."  
  
    "You got the 'goods'?" "HalfEsper" asks with a conspicuous edge, wiggling her eyebrows.  
  
    "Yeah, under Terra Brownfurred, right?" Alex asks, to her nod. "Yup." He pulls out a book from behind the counter and pushes it across the counter for her.  
  
    "Scoooore!" Terra says enthusiastically, picking it up and rifling through it, then hugging it close to herself. "I can't believe my manager wouldn't let us carry the Cybun series anymore." Her face droops dramatically and she began to look very grumpy and speak in monotone. "I'm sorry, Terra, but I'm afraid a comic about a cyborg bunny falling in love with an AI is a bit too niche for our clientele in Bunnyburrow."  
  
    "Bunnyburrow?" I echo incredulously. "You came all the way from _Bunnyburrow_ just to get a comic book?"  
  
    "Graphic novel," Terra replies casually, looking through the book. "And no way! I was in town for a different reason." She points at her shirt. "Why else would I be wearing a shirt that looks like a bunch of citrus fruit threw up all over it?"  
  
    "I mean, it's very _colorful_ ," I shrug. Terra looks at Alex expectantly, but he looks as confused as I do.  
  
    "What- you two really don't know?" Terra gasps. "Awesome! It's July 7th, guys!"  
  
    "What's that?" Alex tilts his head, instinctively looking at a calendar on the wall. The picture on the calendar featured a "sexy" dragon woman. I think the owner of the shop is into some weird stuff. Either way, the date is blank of any sort of significance.  
  
    "It's Serendipiday!" Terra exclaims happily. "Oh my _gosh_ I am so glad you two don't know. You should totally go!"  
  
    "Go... where?" Alex narrows his eyes.  
  
    "To the festival!" Terra says. "They're setting up Mezzo Park as we speak! It starts right after sundown."  
  
    "What exactly is it about?" I ask.  
  
    Terra puts on a look that's a bit  _too_ smug-looking for someone that is a tiny bit smaller than even I am. She folds her arms tightly. "I'm not telling you."  
  
    "Pff, and after I went to the trouble of digging up that Cybun book for you," Alex chides.  
  
    "No no, it's part of the fun!" Terra says. "Serendipiday is all about surprises. It's a bunny holiday, and this year is its inaugural iteration in Zootopia! That's why I've come to Zootopia, I love Serendipiday! I'm gonna check out Zootopia's version with my wife." Oh, okay. So she  _is_ taken.  
  
    "Whatcha think, Mina, you wanna go?" Alex asks me. "I'm off in a couple hours. We could definitely make it."  
  
    I think about this for a second, then brighten up. "Sure! It sounds fun. Maybe I could do like a photo documentary of it!"  
  
    "Yes! Do it!" Terra balls her fists, then looks between us. "Wait, are you two together?"  
  
    "Mhm," Alex confirms with a proud smile.  
  
    "Cute!" Terra shakes her fists. "Okay, maybe I'll see you two there. If you see this really hot, tough looking bunny with amber eyes, I'm probably close. Look for me! Oh, and you two should wear something brightly colored!" She waved and started to head out the door.  
  
    "Uh, you forgot your comic- graphic novel... book," I point out.  
  
    "Oh, oops!" Terra doubles back to the counter and fishes out a credit card, holding it up to Alex. "I have no clue how I function properly sometimes, to be honest."  
  
    Alex laughs and rings up the small fox. A festival about surprises, huh? This should be fun! I mean, as long as they're _good_ surprises.  
  
    After I say goodbye to Alex, I head home and pick out my brightest-colored shirt. It's full of bright blues and purples, wild berry colors. It really clashes against my red and black fur, so I hope that's the effect I'm supposed to achieve.  
  
    I meet back up with Alex at the north end of Mezzo Park. He's wearing a shirt with The Furlanx on it, a team of superheroes. I guess between them they have a lot of brightly-colored costumes! Shorty thereafter, I see the changes to Mezzo Park; it's completely transformed! There are colorful lights strewn everywhere, in the trees, on a bunch of kiosks that have been set up, almost anywhere they can hang a light. It's very lively! Quite crowded, too. I guess that's to be expected from a first-time event.  
  
    "So, do we just go right in?" Alex looks unsure, pointing at the main opening to the park, which has a kiosk in it.  
  
    "Welcome to the Serendipiday Festival," a lively male raccoon greets us at the stand. "First things first, you two of age?"  
  
    Alex and I show our identification to the raccoon, who nods.  
  
    "How does this work?" Alex asks. "It's our first time."  
  
    "Yeah, you and like ninety-five percent of the people here," the raccoon chuckles. "You can buy festival coins from me or at other kiosks here in sets of seven. Food and drink cost money, but the games cost one coin per person that wants to play."  
  
    "Why the middlemammal?" I ask.  
  
    "Tradition," the raccoon shrugs. "Plus the coins are kinda like collectors items, so do what you want with 'em."  
  
    "Think we should get just one set?" Alex asks me.  
  
    "No way! One set _each_!" I insist. We each pay for our sets of coins. Before I pick up my stack, I splay it out in a fan on the counter and take a picture of it.  
  
    The raccoon huffs at this. "Okay you two, go have fun. Next!"  
  
    "Wow, the park looks so flashy like this!" I remark as Alex and I wander deeper into it.  
  
    "Yeah; it's almost sensory overload," Alex rubs the side of his head as we take in all of the kiosks and decorations.  
  
    I gasp at an amazing sight. Closer to the center of the park is this really big golden statue of a bunny. "Ooh! Come on Alex, let's go look at _this_!" I take off running and he comes after me. "Wow..."  
  
    "Ah, this must be a statue of Serendipity herself," Alex remarks. The statue looks like Serendipity is falling in midair, but she doesn't look displeased about it. In fact, she has a paw near her open, smiling mouth and is winking one eye, her ears are out at playful angles. She looks like the very picture of whimsy and fun!  
  
    "Can I take a picture?" I ask the gruff-looking rhino guard standing near the statue.  
  
    "Take all the pictures you'd like," he says, stepping out of the way of my line of fire. "Just don't touch it."  
  
    Alex waits patiently as I try to capture the statue in the way it's meant to be seen. He even holds me up higher for a shot or two.  
  
    "It is a nice statue," Alex smiles. He jingles the coins in his pocket as we walk away from it and I pull one out of my own pocket to look at it. The "heads" side has Serendipity's happy-looking face, complete with these little sparkles in the middle of her eyes, and the reverse side has a big stylized "1" that looks almost like a seven.  
  
    "First inaugural Zootopia celebration," I read some of the small text surrounding the "1". "Sounds like this is a pretty big deal if they can get all of this stuff around here."  
  
    "Must be a big revenue generator," Alex ponders. "Hey, are you hungry at all? I'm kind of curious what kind of food they have here, and I haven't eaten dinner yet."  
  
    "Yeah, I could eat," I agree. I take a few more pictures of various fun-looking carnival style games. Fewer kids are around than I thought. I guess a lot of the games have to do with gambling. We get near a grubfurter stand, and its meerkat owner gestures to us.  
  
    "Step right up, step right _up_!" The meerkat's voice is enthusiastic and really sales-pitchy. I take a picture of him and his stand, and he backs up to pose proudly. I take another one. "Most colorful grubfurters you'll find at the celebration! Imported from Girafrica!"  
  
    "Sounds good," Alex says, "two of your best sellers, please."  
  
    "Coming up!" The meerkat responds with a wavering flair. "Pumbaa, get me two of our best sellers. Oh! You two want the firefly sauce? Its a little hot, but it's so good!"  
  
    "Ooh, I like spicy stuff!" I nod.  
  
    Alex flinches when the price comes up, but he insists on paying. He can be a little "chivalrous", but maybe he figures he should pay for stuff because I'm in college and he's got a steady job.  
  
    "Huh? _Huh_?" The meerkat looks at us expectantly as we take our first bites. Yeow! I can see why they call it "firefly" sauce! It lights up your mouth!  
  
    "Spicy, yet satisfying!" I say, smacking my lips.  
  
    "Whew, it's really good," Alex is panting after two bites. I like when he pants. "Really hot, too." And so is he!  
  
    "Thank you and enjoy! You can find us on the corner of Herd Street, right next to Ozzie's Auto Repair!" The meerkat waves. I hear him muttering to his warthog friend who's grilling them up, something like: "What did I tell you, Pumbaa? This celebration is gonna put us on the _map_!"  
  
    " _And_ Serendipiday is really fun!" The warthog replies cheerfully.  
  
    "Whew..." Alex is still panting, and he looks a bit uncomfortable as we finish off our meals. "Hey, I just thought of something. Follow me."  
  
    "Okay!" I follow Alex; he looks like he has a destination in mind. "Where are we going?"  
  
    "To get a drink," Alex says. "That sauce was really hot."  
  
    "Eh, it could have been hotter," I shrug.  
  
    "Haha, I wondered if she'd be here..." Alex smiles as we reach a kiosk with a lot of "fruit"-looking lights hanging off of it.  
  
    "Oh, isn't this-" I start. One of Alex's mothers has a frozen-fruit kiosk at the park, even when there isn't some kind of festival going on.  
  
    "Hi mom," Alex smiles at the vixen in the stand.  
  
    "Sweetheart!" Alex's mother Vivian greets us. She's a standard red fox; very pretty, though! "'Surprised' to see me? They wanted me to set up my fruit stand for Serendipiday, and it sounded so fun! I just couldn't say no." Vivian smiles at me. "I see you have Miss Primhue with you..." She gives me a sly smile, which she then turns on her son.  
  
    "Yes, mom," Alex huffs in amusement. "We're here for something to drink."  
  
    "You'll have to pay this time, Alex," Vivian warns.  
  
    "Your own son has to pay?" Alex's jaw drops in mock shock. "Oh well. Since you carried me, raised me, and cared for me all my life I guess I can pay for a drink."  
  
    "How _noble_ ," Vivian shoots back. I giggle; Alex's family is so silly. "Want your usuals? Grape for the fox, lime for the pandie?"  
  
    "Please!" I nod. "Can I get a picture of your stand, Vivian? It's so pretty dolled up like this!"  
  
    "Ooh, wait a second," Vivian pours our drinks, and comes back with them. They're in glowing cups that compliment our drink choices colors. I smile, enchanted with this development. "Okay!" She smiles for the picture while posing the drinks near the counter, and I take it.  
  
    "Ah, those cups look fancy," Alex nods. "I guess you have to cover their cost, huh?"  
  
    "You got it, buster," Vivian smirks, her tail thrashing a couple of times. "So pay up so you can drink up."  
  
    Alex pays for our drinks and we start drinking. My boyfriend looks very refreshed after a few sips. He's not as used to spicy food as I am. I live on the stuff!  
  
    "So, have you tried any of the games yet?" Vivian leans over the counter.  
  
    "Not yet," I shake my head. "Do you recommend any of them?"  
  
    "Well, it's my first festival, and I've been here the whole time," Vivian giggles. "You two just have fun, okay Mina?" I nod at her, and Alex and I start to walk away.  
  
    "Thanks mom," Alex calls out.  
  
    "Oh, Alex?" Vivian calls out sweetly. "Can I talk to you alone for a few minutes?"  
  
    Before he can answer "sure", I dash off into the distance to comply prematurely. Alex calls my name out after me and tosses a laugh my way too. I stand dutifully at the other side of the hill with a wide smile, where I can no longer hear them talking.  
  
    I watch them with some curiosity. Vivian looks in my direction with a playful smirk and starts talking to Alex, who looks immediately embarrassed. This shakes a giggle loose from me. I know they're talking about me, which is fine. Alex has two really nice moms and a dad, and I'm pretty sure they all like me a lot. He says that his dad is actually the nicest one of all three of them, but when I've visited the family he actually seemed the most suspicious of me. I didn't really have the courage to ask why. His father is this imposing-looking silver fox with all black and grey fur and intense yellow eyes, but a soft, smooth voice.  
  
    I put my hand over my mouth as I hear Alex go "mom...!" twice, the second one with a much more desperate frequency. She hands him what looks like some sort of bright orange bag, which he takes and loops around his arms to carry it on his back. Vivian waves at her son and he's off my way again with a face full of exasperation. I can only beam at him.  
  
    "So..." I start.  
  
    "Mom stuff," Alex grumbles. "You wanna find a game to play?"  
  
    "Do I ever!" I say.  
  
    My curiosity is piqued by this wide, rectangular stall we find sort of in the center of a bunch of game stations. In it, a pig has several mammals gathered up near a wheel and there are a bunch of small treasure chests near him. The name of the stall appears to be "Lucky 76". A couple of wolves are retreating from him.  
  
    "Ah c'mon, we just need one more player!" The pig has a dry desperation to his voice, holding his hands out in their direction. "Listen, I'm no uncultured swine; this is one of the most traditional Serendipiday games!" The wolves dismissively swipe their arms in his direction and walk away. "Bah! I'm glad I didn't quit my day job."  
  
    "What's this game?" I bounce up and ask him.  
  
    "It's Lucky 76!" The pig replies, gesturing to the mammals gathered. A few of them seem a bit impatient. "We get seven players, then each one throws a set of seven six-sided dice. Seven D6, get it? Anyway, the closest one to the target number wins."  
  
    "Wins what?" Alex asks.  
  
    "This set of exclusive Serendipiday Serendipi _dice_!" The pig says with a flair not unlike that of a game-show host. He opens a small treasure chest which has a really attractive set of seven dice in it, each one a different color of the rainbow and with fancy markings on them, too.  
  
    "So we're throwing dice to  _win_ dice?" Alex tilts his head.  
  
    "Hey, are you gonna bust my pork chops, or are you gonna play?" The pig asks us.  
  
    Alex flicks a coin at the pig, who catches it. "Oh, I'm _playing_."  
  
    "Now we're talkin'!" The pig grins. "All right, we have seven players, so let's give this ol' wheel a spin!" He spins the wheel, which briefly becomes a whirl of color, and lands on... "Thirty-two! Okay, all of you wait until your color comes up and then throw your set." Dice are distributed. Alex's color is green. I take pictures of the proceedings, and the first few mammals throw. The pig calls out the throws.  
  
    "Twenty-five, not bad!"  
    "Twelve? Ouch..."  
    " _Thirty_ five, now _that's_ a close one!"  
    "Twenty-one... not quite!"  
    "Thirty! Some high rolls tonight!"  
  
    The green color finally comes up. Alex takes a steadying breath.  
  
    "Wanna kiss my paws for luck?" Alex asks, gathering up the dice.  
  
    "Since when are red pandas lucky?" I chide.  
  
    "Well, I'm lucky to know you," he returns with his most charming grin. What a goofball!  
  
    I "aww" at him anyway and kiss his closed fists three times rapidly.  
  
    "Okay, now really ham up your throw; I want a good pose!" I instruct, holding up my camera.  
  
    "Hey, I heard that...!" The pig calls out after me.  
  
    "Oops! Sorry!" I wince at him. He just gives a dry laugh in response.  
  
    Alex really gives it an adventurous throw, which I take several pictures of. The dice roll around, and finally come to a stop after bouncing around wildly.  
  
    "...Thirty-two! I don't believe it!" The pig exclaims, banging a gong seven times. "Okay, fox, here ya go!" He presents Alex with the small treasure chest. "We'll take coins for the next game soon, and don't miss the fireworks tonight. They're supposed to be really good! They start at eleven sharp!"  
  
    "Fireworks, nice!" I say, walking away with Alex. He looks over the treasure chest.  
  
    "Neat, it has a seal on it with 'Serendipiday' and that inaugural year business," Alex notes. He takes another peek at the dice inside the chest, smirking.  
  
    "You seemed pretty keen to play that one," I say with interest. "Any reason?"  
  
    "My sister's gonna be _so jealous_ ," Alex remarks. He shuts and latches the chest then sticks it into his bag on his back. "She  _loves_ dice."  
  
    "Oh, Cindy?" I rub my chin. "I don't guess she's here tonight."  
  
    "Probably not," Alex shakes his head. "She visited recently, but she's been super busy with college. She-" Alex starts to look distant, then frowns. "Ah... you know what? I'll probably end up giving them to her."  
  
    "Huh, _really_?" I blink in honest surprise.  
  
    "Yeah, she'd probably appreciate them," Alex looks at the ground. "I was thinking of displaying them in the display case at Shadowfox Collectibles and watching her freak out when she saw them at the store, but..." Alex shrugs.  
  
    "Aw, you're such a nice lil' brother, Alex," I smile broadly.  
  
    "I just think she could use a bit of cheering up," Alex shrugs again.  
  
    "Why not the best of both then?" I wiggle my claws on one hand. "First tease her with them, then give 'em to her. Win-win!"  
  
    "There's an idea," Alex laughs. "C'mon Mina, let's go find some more games to play."  
  
    The night wears on and Alex and I spend all of our coins save for one each. The coins just look really nice, and each of us want one as a commemoration. We don't really win much of anything else, a few little trinkets here and there. I completely destroyed this gun game where I had to shoot targets, and got my pick of a bunch of adorable Serendipity plushies. I picked a small one with a red and black coloration, like Alex and I. She's poking her head up from Alex's cinch bag on his back at the moment. It's really cute. I got some really good pictures of the celebration, and now the fireworks are about to begin.  
  
    Though it's really crowded in the park, we somehow manage to find a nice little spot. Alex and I both shudder as the first one goes off; neither of us expected it. Alex holds my hand and gives my cheek a little lick before the fireworks start in earnest. I respond by touching my nose to his, then we start to enjoy the show.  
  
    The fireworks are absolutely spectacular. There are multicolored ones and ones that spiral and spray stars everywhere. It's an incredible show; the best I've ever seen, and I've seen Downtown Zootopia's New Years Eve fireworks! I take some pictures of some of the most impressive sprays of stars.  
  
    After the fireworks, Alex just sits there, kind of stunned by the beauty. I've got a similar feeling washing over me, so I shriek in surprise when I make a half turn to my right and see a camel holding a gerbil and both are staring right at me.  
  
    "Ah, sorry to startle you," The gerbil holds up a paw, then points at my camera. "Just couldn't help but noticing you had some nice equipment there."  
  
    Alex turns his head to look at the two suspiciously. I look a bit defensive of my treasured possession too and clutch it tighter, but then I notice that the camel also has a camera; it looks even more expensive than mine.  
  
    "Name's Earl Blip," he says. "I run a website called Zootopia Hot Spots. We're doing a huge piece on the first Zootopia Serendipiday, and I just wondered if you 'belong' to any photo organizations, miss..."  
  
    "Um, Mina Primhue, and not... not _really_?" I smile. "I'm doing a modelling photography internship."  
  
    "Chaz, can you give her one of my cards?" The gerbil asks, and the camel nods with a grin. I look at the card. It does look rather professional. "Limited time offer; because our piece is going to be due on the weekend. You maybe wanna come down to our studio? We can look at your work, maybe buy a few photos from you?"  
  
    I try not to gasp. "Um, I'll see what I can do!" Crud, that sounded perhaps a bit too eager.  
  
    "Lucky I ran into you, then," Earl smiles. "See you soon, hopefully." The two are off.  
  
    I gasp at Alex. "How cool is that? This could be like my first freelance gig!"  
  
    "Sounds pretty neat," Alex smiles proudly at me. "I wonder if you're as good a lancer as you are a sniper."  
  
    "Oh, pfff," I roll my eyes, feeling giddy from my good fortune.  
  
    "Seems like everything's closing up," Alex looks around at the escaping crowds. "You wanna head out?"  
  
    "Sure!" I chirp, following him toward the front of the park.  
  
    Before we get there, though, Alex stops walking and turns to me. I tilt my head quizzically. He takes off his bag and pushes the Serendipity plushie further into it, then roots around in the bag.  
  
    "Nooo, how dare you defy me!" I say in a squeaky voice for the plushie. Alex doesn't respond, which makes me kind of uneasy.  
  
    "Um, Mina, I have something for you," Alex says. He looks very nervous. My heart skips a beat. "Ah... my family has these seven rings... one for each color of the rainbow. My parents and sister and I all have one." He shows off his own ring on his right hand. There's a sapphire in it. "So... um... that leaves two." He opens his other hand, and there's a matching ring with an emerald in it. I gasp in shock.  
  
    "Is this a... a _proposal_?" I tingle with a kind of excited fear.  
  
    "Not quite," Alex winces. "I don't- I don't think I'm ready for marriage yet. We're still young... but..." Alex takes a deep breath. "These rings are heirlooms... and I- I just want you to be a part of our family, I guess. S-so, would you like the ring?"  
  
    I hug tightly onto him. "I'd love it! I love _you_!" I gasp. "So... umh, does this make us... mates?"  
  
    "I mean,  _most_ foxes are pretty exclusive, my parents notwithstanding," Alex rubs behind his head bashfully with his free hand. I take the ring and look at it. It's quite uncomplicated; it must be old. Well kept, though; It's clearly made for a fox's fingers. I try it, but it doesn't fit on my hand; it's too big. I also can't quite get all of my fingers through it to wear it like a bracelet.  
  
    "I was afraid of that," Alex chuckles nervously.  
  
    But I get an idea! I reach into my camera bag and pull out a spare thin black strap I have for it. I loop the ring through it then wear the strap like a necklace. "Ta da!" I hold my arms out to my sides.  
  
    "That's... clever," Alex smiles. "I'll have to get you a real necklace for it. ...Looks pretty on you."  
  
    He swallows, then starts walking, seemingly embarrassed of what just happened, I stay close to him.  
  
    "Wanna come over to my place tonight?" I ask impishly. "We can play some games."  
  
    "Mina," Alex gives a nervous laugh and a sigh. "I love you, but if I never play a competitive game against you again it will be too soon."  
  
    "I was thinking more..." I roll my eyes off to the side and smile even wider. "The kind of games we could both win at..."  
  
    "Oh, ooh," Alex looks intense and interested. Then his brow falls and he shakes his head. "...Mina. I didn't give you a family heirloom just to get you to 'play' with me..."  
  
    I'm struck by the worst impulse I can imagine. I go for it.  
  
    "Of course not," I nod seriously. "That would be 'pandering'."  
  
    Alex stops dead in his tracks and he squints his eyes closed. "Oh. Oh, Mina, no. Please. _Please_ no..."  
  
    I burst out laughing, and it isn't too long before he joins me. It's long, jubilant, and refreshing. Mm, I love my fox. I let out a squeak as he picks me up and kisses me. I kiss back, of course, throwing my paws onto his shoulders and rubbing them. There's not too many people around, but I don't care who's watching anyway.  
  
    "So, what if I want you to come over anyway," I pet over his ears. "Whatcha gonna do about it? Gonna come over with your red panda girl? Are ya? Huh? Huh?"  
  
    Alex nods.  
  
    So we go to my place to play some games. They're really fun games, and we both win _several times_. I took some pictures, too! But... only _we're_ ever gonna see 'em!


	16. Steven Skippel

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This character is related to one of my older original characters, Karen Skippel. Despite her numerous appearances in my works, this is the first real time Steven has shown up.

    "Steve! Hey, Steve!"  
  
    I lurch straight up in my chair with a start, blinking in confusion. A grayish, oval blur is to my side. I replace the glasses laying on my desk and it turns out to be an armadillo. Michael Curladin.  
  
    "Nn, yeah," I rub my head.  
  
    "Sleeping on the job, guy?" Michael's eyes squint, though with how small they are, it's hard to tell. "That's pretty dangerous... 'specially 'cause the boss is out today."  
  
    "Yeah, sorry, thanks," I nod, then shake my head, then try to get my bearings. Michael leaves without another word, though he looks at me sidelong as he walks by.  
  
    It was a rough night last night. Always is on that day of the year. I sigh.  
  
    It doesn't help that the air conditioning finally got fixed in the office. I mean, it  _does_ help, immensely. Summers in Savanna Central, especially this close to Sahara Square, can be _brutal_ , even if you aren't an arctic hare. The welcome chill in the office was just a bit too comfortable, I guess, what with a mostly sleepless night.  
  
    Serendipity must have been looking out for me for a change, because it's not three minutes later when the boss himself walks by. The reason our ceilings are so high in the office. Donovan Zenith.  
  
    "Skippel," the giraffe cranes his neck down and looks directly at me, "how are things?"  
  
    "Just great, boss," I say. "I got the reports done for Aardvark Rise and Grazing Homes, and just sent the orders in."  
  
    "Very good, anything else?" Mr. Zenith seems to want to retract his neck already.  
  
    "A builder is looking for a contract for a new suburb in the Meadowlands," I look at my email. "Prideland Homes. Should I get in touch with them?"  
  
    "Yes, of course," Mr. Zenith nods slowly. "Zenith Blinds is the premier blind, shutter, and drape supplier in Zootopia, and it wouldn't do for us to be beaten to the punch if another firm gets to that territory. Get in touch with them immediately."  
  
    "Yes sir," I nod, starting to compose an email. Mr. Zenith moves his head back up and starts to walk off, offering me: "good work, Skippel." His voice seems to come from far off, him being a giraffe and all, but even though arctic hare ears are small, they work just fine.  
  
    I look at the email draft after I write it, and it's... not my best work. I even forgot to put the company footer on it. I get up and head to the break room, eager to get some coffee.  
  
    Michael is there, sipping from a brew himself.  
  
    "Mighty Mike," I wave at him nonchalantly. "Thanks for the save there. Sure enough, Zenith came by almost right after you left."  
  
    "No problem, Steve," Michael grins as I make my own cup. I like my coffee pretty stiff. Bunnies aren't supposed to have too much of it, but I need a shot in the arm. "I mean, not like you were due for a promotion anyway."  
  
    "Yeah, that went to what, Martha?" I take a sip. It's not really that tasty, but that's not why I drink it.  
  
    "Mhm," Michael nods, "what's a horse even doing in this company? She can barely measure blinds, and she's no typist. You and I work way harder than that mare."  
  
    I don't say anything. It's a bit speciest on Michael's part, but it's technically true.  
  
    "You ask me, I think she got the promotion because that muzzle of hers," Michael says in a standoffish tone, looking around the corner.  
  
    "Sucking up to the boss, you mean?" I finish my cup and put it away.  
  
    "Yeah, that's one way of putting it," Michael barks out a laugh. "I mean, horses have long muzzles, and there's a lot of room under Zenith's desk..."  
  
    "Jeez, not so loud, Mike!" I wince. "Here you just got  _me_ out of a scrape."  
  
    "Eh," Mike shrugs an arm. "It's common knowledge. Or common speculation, anyway. We don't get any respect in this place as it is."  
  
    "Well there are some jobs we aren't suited for," I grumble. "We can't measure tall windows, and it's not like we have room to grow." I put a hand above my head.  
  
    "You can say that again," Michael says, starting to walk back to his cubicle. "We're just small cogs in this machine, Steve, and there's no other place for us."  
  
    I walk back to my own desk. Michael's cynical, but he's not _wrong_. Sometimes I feel like I work twice as hard as other mammals for the same pay and barely any recognition. But it's not really about that. I just have to do what I have to do.  
  
    For her.  
  
    I slowly glance at the framed picture on my desk. It's of my daughter, Karen, on her sweet sixteenth. She's almost smiling.  
  
    I sigh. It feels like I've somehow failed her. She's never been much of a social hare, which is strange in itself, but she can come off as very cold, almost detached. Strangely though, she seems to worry about everything as well.  
  
    She reminds me so much of Cynthia. If she smiled more, she'd look just like her.  
  
    An endless toil at a dead-end job to provide financially for my little kit. It'd sound noble if I was feeling charitable with myself.  
  
    At least I'm awake. Now to see about editing that email and hopefully securing another deal that'll get me a perfunctory nod from my literal higher up.  
  
    It's for Karen, Steven. Just suck it up and do it.  
  
    The day seems to drag on and on. I do my work, my work gets done, I pack up and go home. The sun's almost to the horizon before I enter my apartment building. I make my way up to the door and open it. I decide to check in on my daughter, knocking on her door before opening it. My little white fluff of a daughter is sitting there in a chair, looking at her computer.  
  
    "Hey Dad," Karen says automatically.  
  
    "Good evening," I try a weak smile. "Want some pizza tonight?"  
  
    "That works," Karen says, barely taking her eyes off the screen.  
  
    Something on her screen catches my eye and I take a few steps into her room. "Karen... what are you doing?"  
  
    "Playing a game," Karen responds casually.  
  
    I immediately feel a burst of irritation. "It was a rhetorical question, Karen. You're using some sort of hacking program, aren't you?"  
  
    Maddeningly, she shows little guilt or shame; she just sort of shrugs and nods.  
  
    "Karen...!" Anger seeps into my voice.  
  
    "Relax, Dad," Karen grumbles, her ears sweeping back. "It is basically just a game to me."  
  
    "Who or what are you hacking!?" I storm my way over to the computer, but besides the sketchiness of the program, I really don't know exactly what she's doing. "Is the ZBI going to come busting down our door?"  
  
    "No, jeez, calm down," Karen flinches, beginning to look anxious, "it's just- I'm not hurting anything. I won't do anything harmful. I'll leave a note saying I got in and how they can fix it, no big deal."  
  
    "That's like-" I slap my forehead. "That's like breaking into someones house just because you want to see if you can do it!"  
  
    "No one's going to find out it's me," Karen's brow furrows. "I'm fine."  
  
    "Karen...!" I grunt in frustration, stomping a foot. "It's not right just to do something because you can 'get away' with it. That doesn't make it just!"  
  
    She gives me a blank look with her icy blue eyes. Probably pities her old hare's antiquated ethics or something.  
  
    I'm out of things to say. I storm off and head to the fridge. It's been a long day, and it was a long night last night. It was Karen's seventeenth birthday, which means it's also the seventeenth anniversary of my wife Cynthia's death.  
  
    My hand trembles as I open the fridge and I release a shaky sigh as I reach for a bottle of scotch. I pour a solid glass of it and trudge off to my chair, slumping down into it and taking a swig of the drink. I turn the television on. The darkness of the room is illuminated by a pro pawball game, not that I feel like watching it. The commentary buzzes around my ears, and I hope between the alcohol and the chatter that my thoughts can be chased out of my head.  
  
    I feel like a failure.  
  
    I feel like I've failed both my wife and my daughter. Even though it was her wish to bring Karen into this world at her own expense, what have I really done for her? She's grown up so distant and... I don't know. Maybe I didn't raise her right. Maybe I wasn't there for her enough. Maybe if I'd given her some more of my time, some more care... maybe she'd be more like the irrepressible warmth that Cynthia radiated.  
  
    My thoughts start to dull, leaving me heavy with ennui.  
  
    Karen eventually walks out of her room and her eyes widen as she sees me.  
  
    "What," I say.  
  
    "Dad... uh," Karen twists her little muzzle, looking around. "...S-sorry?"  
  
    "You're ss-sorry you were hacking," I mumble. "Or...?"  
  
    "...Daddy, I don't like it when you drink," Karen says in a soft voice. "You get so mopey and weird."  
  
    "You know what day it is," I respond blankly.  
  
    Karen frowns. "If I said I'd give up doing sketchy stuff, would you give up alcohol...?"  
  
    "'Zat how it's going to be?" I narrow my eyes at her. "S'gonna be a bargain, is it?"  
  
    Truthfully, I don't know if I could cope without booze. Everything just  _feels_ too much. I stare at the television, trying to ignore my daughter's nervous tittering.  
  
    I'm caught by surprise as the doorbell rings.  
  
    "Whozzat...?" I look to the door.  
  
    "I got it," Karen wanders to the door and gets out her wallet. The door opens and I try to look past her. Looks like a caracal or some cat like that. Smells like pizza. The caracal guy reads out her total and she pays it. Karen gives her a stilted thanks and closes the door. She walks past me. "I- uh, I was hungry and pizza sounded good, like you said. ...I paid for it with my money."  
  
    "...What kind's it?" I trudge over to the table.  
  
    "Just cheese," Karen says softly.  
  
    The two of us silently eat a few pieces. Minutes go by slowly. I'm in a dour mood, but I feel my emotions rumbling up in my chest.  
  
    "Karen, I'm sorry I've failed you as a father," I finally choke out, staring at my pizza.  
  
    My daughter looks very uncomfortable. "Wh-what? No, you haven't..."  
  
    "Guess I didn't teach you well enough," I mumble. "Didn't teach you how to be social, how to know right from wrong..."  
  
    "Dad, I'm just introverted," Karen looks away. "I'm okay."  
  
    I give up a shaky sigh.  
  
    "I wish..." Karen bites her lip, then looks like she doesn't want to continue.  
  
    "Wish what?" I'm curious.  
  
    "I just kinda wish you were more... uh, happy," Karen says, trying not to look me in the eye.  
  
    Ugh, that hits my chest like a balled up fist. I feel like I'm fighting tears, my breathing gets difficult.  
  
    "I know you get like this on my birthdays," Karen says quietly. "And I know I didn't know her... but... um... how was Mom?"  
  
    "W-wonderful," the sound barely makes it out of my throat. I bow my head and rub my temples. "She was wonderful. Kind and sweet, even a little bubbly."  
  
    "Not like me, huh?" Karen looks at me seriously.  
  
    My lip wobbles, and I sob a little. "Karen, you're my only little girl. I love you."  
  
    Karen's expression is hard to read in my slightly impaired state. "...Love you too, Dad."  
  
    Together we finish off the whole medium pizza. I guess we were both hungry. I look to my scotch sitting on the end table, but instead just pour myself a glass of water. I sit back at the table and sip it. Karen, unusually, remains there. We're both quiet for a time.  
  
    "So..." Karen twiddles her fingers. "You wanna... uh, play cards or something?"  
  
    "I'm a little beat, Kar-" I stop myself. I- I've got to stop using these type of excuses. I bet that by my begging off of doing things with her... it's gotten her to this point. "I mean, yeah, let's play some cards."  
  
    We play a few games of rummy, and she wins all but one of them. I have the stray thought that luck doesn't tend to favor me in a lot of ways, but I dismiss it.  
  
    "Well, good games, Karen," I say softly. My faculties are all back, and I have to admit I'm feeling a little better now. "That was fun."  
  
    Karen nods, though her face stays mostly expressionless. "Dad, you think you'd ever date again?"  
  
    A heavy question, but by now I'm too exhausted to be worked up.  
  
    "I don't know, Karen," I consider Karen's face carefully. "Cynthia was so special to me, and I don't think there's another hare alive like her. Even if there was, I think Cynthia'd probably slap me at the pearly gates if she found out I'd gotten with some other random doe."  
  
    "You don't think she'd want you to be happy?" Karen looks genuinely confused.  
  
    My lower lip wobbles. "I think she'd say she left me all I need to be happy."  
  
    Karen squints a little. "Is that what she'd say?"  
  
    I honestly don't know anymore. It's been a long time.  
  
    More silence prevails, and she looks at the clock.  
  
    "Uh, I guess I'd better go to bed, school in the morning and all," Karen looks a bit troubled. "G'night, Daddy."  
  
    "Night, honey," I say. "Maybe we could play some of your games next time?"  
  
    "Well, er," Karen squints again. "They're mostly online multiplayer or single player..."  
  
    "I don't know what that means, really," I chuckle. "Goodnight."  
  
    I walk over to the television and turn it off as Karen leaves, and I throw our trash away. I'm feeling tired myself, and tomorrow will be another day at the grind. My bed doesn't seem too inviting; this time of year it just feels too big for me. I just curl up on the couch.  
  
    Since I had a little too much to drink, I'm out like a light.  
  
    I blearily get up barely four hours later, feeling the call to nature. I feel a pain in my head as payment for my sins. But I also feel a warmth. Feeling around me, I have a blanket covering me. I get out of it to take care of business, then go back to the couch and snug into the blanket.  
  
    I finally feel the faintest glimmer of happiness and satisfaction as my thoughts start to fade again.  
  
    I love my daughter.


	17. Princess Weaselton

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Princess Sara Weaselton is the "Partners: Revisited" version of Kerry "Princess" Weaselton of the "Partners" series. They are essentially the same character; the daughter of Duke Weaselton who is the head of a club/clique in school called the Musteladies, made up of mostly mustelid females.
> 
> This installment is set after most other instances of her in my other works like "Kissed" and "Initiation", including the "Royalty" collection of Different Tails that focuses on Duke Weaselton.

    A day's a day's a day.  
  
    College life has been weird. Not too weird; I mean I know what I expected.  
  
    I expected not to be "on top" anymore. The end of high school told me that. I gave the Musteladies to a promising sophomore ferret, but toward the end of the school year, I didn't think it would last. Not for us, and not for "future generations". I know it's kind of ridiculous to say that a little girls club is my big "legacy", but I dunno. I feel like everything's different now.  
  
    The biggest thing was definitely Kara getting a scholarship in another city-state. Zootopia is accommodating to a lot of interests, but for specialized education you gotta branch out. It hit her boyfriend Larry pretty hard, which in turn hit  _her_ pretty hard because they're a couple of co-dependent saps.  
  
    Kunoichi- no, Hotaru, that's her name. Basically just before her graduation, Hotaru started wearing her trademark scarf on her neck instead of her face. I thought it was just to keep peace with the faculty, but she became different. Or, to be more clear, she became more of who  _she_ was, and not who she "played" in school. That being my "ninja". I liked that, though. It was fun.  
  
    I'm a Weaselton, and that's not a prestigious name. My family has a bunch of petty crooks in its branches; I was once rudely told that my family tree was rotten. My dad especially has been arrested for the most trivial of repeated offenses that I wouldn't be surprised if they were taking score at the ZPD.  
  
    Early on in life, I decided I wasn't going to go in that direction. I was going to take charge of my own life, and tell people what they needed to do.  
  
    So now, I'm in school to become an accountant. ...What can I say? I'm pretty good with telling numbers where to go, too.  
  
    I've finished my classes for the day and decide to do something a little different after having dinner. There's a college pawball game at Zootopia University tonight and I figure I may as well attend to cheer on our team. Well, that's a lie. I couldn't care less about sports. The real reason I want to go is that Heather is playing, one of my old "leading ladies" in the Musteladies.  
  
    Of all of us, she's changed the least, and I envy that. She's wanted to play pro pawball since she was little, and she's gone after that goal relentlessly. She's wanted to follow in her father's pawprints. Hopefully she'll skip the part where he got a career-ending injury.  
  
    It's not a special night. It's just a mid-season game. Despite the variety of mammals on display in the stands, it looks somewhat empty. I'm sure the playing field looks pretty small to bigger mammals; pawball games can get pretty brutal, especially between smaller mammals like mustelids.  
  
    I've gotten there so early that I have a lot of time before the game starts. I'm on top of my studies and my work, and the party scene here doesn't really appeal to me. Mixed with a lot of larger mammals, it's tough to find the smaller ones to command. There are always personalities at war with each other in these social groups; with my high school it was easier because the school was mostly mustelids and rodents.  
  
    My stupor breaks when I see a familiar face, one of a gray squirrel. He's kicking his lower paws on a chair a little too big for him. He looks glum.  
  
    "Larry?" I almost squeak. "Larry, is that you?"  
  
    "Huh?" His head twitches in my direction and to my hidden delight he brightens up at my presence. "Princess! Been awhile."  
  
    "Sure has!" I sit next to him. "What's going on with you, pipsqueak? I didn't think you went to ZU."  
  
    "I don't," Larry shakes his head. "Just kinda... I dunno, got bored." He gestures at the field. "Thought it'd be fun to watch Heather play."  
  
    "God, I never thought I'd be kindred spirits with _you_ ," I chuckle, nudging him with my elbow. He rocks, unresistant, giving a small smile. "You look kinda blue, squirrel. You still miss Kara?"  
  
    "Oh yeah," Larry checks his phone. "Haven't heard from her in at least six hours."  
  
    "You poor creature," I roll my eyes. I'm pretty sure this squirrel would curl up and die if it wasn't for that ferret. He starts to text.  
  
    "'Look who I found at the game'," Larry says stiltedly and aims his camera at me. I reflexively give a pose with a confident grin. After he snaps it, he shows me.  
  
    "Ugh, delete that," I grunt. He seems to hesitate, but takes another picture. This time I try to pose more how I feel, just the smallest smile, almost a smirk.  
  
    "This one is pretty good," Larry says, and I don't disagree. I nod, and he sends the pic to Kara. He looks out onto the field where the cheerleaders are doing a routine, flashing their colorful orange and blue pom-poms. I lean over, wondering if Larry's eating the eye candy.  
  
    The squirrel gives me a look, then shrugs. "Think they'll win?"  
  
    "With Heather around? Sure!" I flick my wrist.  
  
    "Are you just saying that because it's Heather?" Larry smirks.  
  
    "Hey, I don't have to play Heather up to _you_ , you know her," I return with a piqued eyebrow.  
  
    "Yeah, fair enough," Larry replies, then after a moment's hesitation, "she's crazy."  
  
    "Bah ha! Got that right," I grin. "She'll be the MVP!"  
  
    "So you're here, right? ZU?" Larry looks at me. "What are you doing?"  
  
    "Accounting, only the most exciting stuff," I say with sarcasm. "Are you... doing anything?"  
  
    "I just started driving school," Larry says. He looks ashamed?  
  
    "Ah, so I'm lookin' at the next racing star, I forgot that's what you wanted to do," I laugh. He starts to look worse. Okay, maybe pushed it too far.  
  
    "Doubt it," Larry replies bitterly. "Even if I'm really good, the Tiny Racing League isn't as glamorous as the Speed league, or as hyped up as the Huge league."  
  
    "Well, what if you're the best Tiny racer ever?" I shrug. "It could happen; you don't know!"  
  
    "No matter what, I'm still gonna be Larry Wilde-Hopps," he sighs. "Son of the first fox and bunny in the ZPD."  
  
    "Eghhh!" I wave my arms. "No no no! You can't think like _that_. We gotta get out of our ol' folks shadows. ...You know  _I'd_ know. I'm pretty sure your parents have arrested my dad. More than once, even." He looks up at me. "But who cares what those guys are doin', we gotta make our own destiny! You could be a star, just like I'm  _sure_ Heather's gonna be a star."  
  
     "Thanks for the vote of confidence, anyway," Larry shrugs.  
  
    "Just like I'm sure  _I'm_ gonna be an accountant," I declare with a vigorous, self-mocking edge. "But no one's gonna take me seriously if I keep my name as 'Princess'. Gonna probably have to go by my middle name."  
  
    "What's that?" He turns his head, eyes big. I'm not into rodents, but  _dang_ is this guy cute. No wonder I basically see heart bubbles popping over Kara's head when the two get close.  
  
    "A middle name's something your parents give you and you never use," I explain. "You know, like good manners."  
  
    Larry laughs, despite it being a stupid joke, then he pursues with a reproving look.  
  
    "It's Sara," I explain. "It  _means_ 'princess'. So I'm Princess Princess Weaselton."  
  
    "Oh pfff..." Larry smirks. "So when Hotaru called you Princess-Hime... you could have been Princess Princess Princess?"  
  
    "Right?" I roll my eyes. "Redundant city. Of redundancy."  
  
    "Why'd you never go by it before?" Larry wonders. "Sara and Kara, kind of has a ring to it?"  
  
    "It would have if it was just us, but I doubt Heather would have bought 'Hera'. Plus, I needed to stay 'Princess' to exert my dominance over you peons."  
  
    Larry chuckles. "...I miss hanging out with you Musteladies. Mostly Kara, but... yeah, it was good times."  
  
    "I'm still curious how you got to become friends with Heather," I look at him skeptically. "Did you bribe her?"  
  
    "She pushed me in a fountain," Larry reminisces fondly. "We've been friends ever since."  
  
    "What!?" I laugh.  
  
    Eventually Zootopia's anthem is played and the game starts. Pawball is... well, it's kind of frustrating to watch. The players work so hard, but there's barely any scoring going on. There's a lot of  _almost_ scoring... it's basically a big tease. So whenever someone  _does_ finally make a goal, everyone goes crazy. In fact, only two goals were scored, both by the Zootopia team. And the first was Heather's! Larry and I just lost it. I find myself agreeing with the pipsqueak. I'd like to have days like this more often than not. Life just seems to be pulling us apart. After I sat down from cheering for Heather's goal, I wonder if I've already had the best years of my life.  
  
    Jeez, pretty heavy thoughts for a freakin' pawball game.  
  
    When it's over, there's a cartoonish spaghetti-like fluster of fur on the field over Zootopia U's decisive victory. Heather and the other scoring weasel are lifted into the air and carried off.  
  
    "You wanna go try to see her after it's all over?" Larry asks.  
  
    "Yeah, sure," I nod. I'd like that a lot. Heck, I'd like for Kara to be here too; I know Larry would. And we could all go out for ice cream or something. And while I'm at it, I'd like a million dollars!  
  
    Not seriously, Dad. Don't go joining any heists.  
  
    Larry and I loiter around where the players are coming out. We just catch sight of Heather's white fur; she's still getting shoved and tousled by her teammates. There's a flash of lighter brown fur that zooms in on her before Larry and I can get closer.  
  
    Ah, it's Laura. Heather's small otter girlfriend.  
  
    The two attach as if magnetized, embracing tightly. Then, they kiss. It's not one of those cute kisses Larry and Kara are always sharing and seem embarrassed if you catch them doing it. It's a long, sexually-charged, passionate kiss. Heather must be still riding high off of adrenaline from the game, but I know Laura is "like that". I think she wants to be a national park tour guide or something, but I'm pretty sure the nature she likes to explore is mostly under Heather's clothes.  
  
    I glance at Larry, and even he seems kind of uncomfortable at the flagrant PDA, and I'm sure as a red-blooded squirrel who's into mustelids, he probably wouldn't shy away from a little slinky sapphic action. He pokes his claw tips together, trying his best not to look. Bless his silly squirrel soul.  
  
    I'm sure the two of us just look kind of lost when Heather finally notices us, Laura hanging off of her.  
  
    "Princess! Larry!" Heather shouts. She has gotten a lot louder. Probably because the average decibel level her friends talk at approaches maximum. "Good to see you! You came here to see the game!?"  
  
    "Hi!" Laura waves excitedly. She's a cheerful otter, she has that going for her. Pretty, too. Eager to please. Especially Heather.  
  
    "Yeah!" I grin. "Hey, I was thinking of rounding up some friends and heading to this ice cream joint I know of. You and Laura wanna come?" Larry looks a bit blindsided by this, and to be honest I am too. It just kinda slipped out.  
  
    "Uh, sorry, we kinda have plans!" Heather looks genuinely remorseful, and Laura gleefully nods. "Maybe take a rain-check?"  
  
    "Sure," I nod, and the two leave. I try not to, but I must look disappointed. Larry and I were barely a speed bump on their way to jump each others' fluff.  
  
    "You want to get ice cream?" Larry tilts his head.  
  
    "It's just gonna be you and me if so," I grumble. "Dunno if Kara'd be happy about that."  
  
    "Hey, it's not a date," Larry shrugs. "I can hang out with you."  
  
    "You sure?" I tease, nodding to his phone, which he's instinctively gotten into his paw. "You can ask permission if you want."  
  
    "I doubt she'd get back to me in time," Larry looks at his phone. "She said she's really swamped with assignments tonight. Where's the place?"  
  
    "Just a little ways from here, near the Grass Street Station," I gesture. "It's called Fox Ice Cream Joint."  
  
    "Creative," Larry quips dryly.  
  
    So Larry and I walk the sprawling streets of Zootopia alone. It's quiet on the way. I feel like I have to break the silence or I'm gonna go crazy.  
  
    "See Larry?" I suck my teeth. "Everything's different. There's gonna be no 'getting the band back together'. We're all too... different."  
  
    "I get you," Larry says darkly, all of the wind out of his tail. "Sometimes I wonder if Kara and I will... y'know. Stay together. Distance has put a strain on 'us'."  
  
    "Hey, don't talk like that," I shake my head. "Kara loves you. She's crazy about you! It's kind of annoying, really."  
  
    "Heh," Larry fakes a smile. I see a dark figure that's standing on a low fence nearby. I look at it curiously, but the figure seems to melt. Larry follows my glance and sees nothing.  
  
    "All this time tonight I don't know if I've been tryin' to convince you or myself," I shrug in irritation. "I'm sure I'm gonna see you all somewhere. In the news, probably. You n' Heather are gonna be winning trophies. Kara'll get the Cowbell Peace Prize. Laura'll, I dunno, be really good at being a National Park guide. Maybe she'll write a novel with funny stories from her tours. She's a good writer. Kinda flowery, though."  
  
    "Are you comparing us to you?" Larry shrugs. "Do you think being an accountant will be boring?"  
  
    "I mean, it's not gonna be _exciting_ ," I laugh. "But it's more like, I dunno. We'll all be worlds apart. And the times where we just... drop in on each other are gonna be less and less, until-"  
  
    As I'm speaking, a flash of fur drops down between us. I shriek, and so does Larry. He's got a pretty good "eyaaaaaagh!"  
  
    "Heh! Still got it."  
  
    When my eyes focus again, I see that it's Hotaru. The Anihonese marten folds her arms tightly and smirks. I'm half expecting a timely wind to pick up and blow her scarf around. She turns her smirk into a frown and looks between us.  
  
    "What's going on here? Why're  _you_ two wandering around together this late?"  
  
    "We're gonna get some ice cream, you wanna come?" Larry jerks his paw in the direction we're moving.  
  
    "Sure! I like ice cream," Hotaru says chirpily. Her voice is so... cute. It's kind of strange, as I was used to her affecting a deeper, more serious voice for her "Kunoichi" persona. "Ooh, wonder if they've got green tea ice cream."  
  
    "We were going to invite Heather too, but she'll be too 'busy' with Laura, if you know what I mean," I grumble.  
  
    "Ah," Hotaru grins, placing her paws together. She looks at Larry. "Are you a yuri fan?"  
  
    "Uh, what's that?" Larry asks somewhat unconvincingly. Hotaru giggles adorably.  
  
    "What are  _you_ doing, Hotaru?" I glance at her skeptically. "Was that you on the fence?"  
  
    "Darn, maybe I  _am_ losing my edge," Hotaru snaps her claws and grits her teeth as she walks with us. "There's a nice full moon tonight. What kind of ninja would I be if I didn't practice balancing on narrow things in the moonlight?"  
  
    "I have no idea what kind of 'ninja' you are anymore, Hotaru," I admit, but I didn't mean it to sound so defeated.  
  
    "Aw, don't be like that," Hotaru's brow comes up, "here, I'll spring for ice cream tonight. All three of us. What do you say?"  
  
    "'Free ice cream' are some of the finest words in the language," Larry nods.  
  
    "Just how do you earn your money, Hotaru?" I narrow one eye.  
  
    "I'll tell you all about it once we get our ice cream!" She claims.  
  
    I have a feeling she won't.  
  
    "Ow, ow ow ow ow ow ow!" Hotaru paws at her right eye. "Brain freeze." The three of us are sitting together at a small booth at the ice cream place. It's kind of low-key, not really well decorated. But it's got a lot of different tasty ice cream flavors for a lot of different dietary needs.  
  
    "A true ninja must even eat their ice cream fast!" Larry jokes, stabbing his own with his spoon.  
  
    "Yes; I have failed," Hotaru has a dopey grin on her face after she wrestles the pain away. "I bring shame to my family."  
  
    I sigh with a small smile.  
  
    "I wish it could be like this more often," I grumble, "I missed this."  
  
    "No reason we can't hang out more," Hotaru offers. She gasps as a tiny blob of ice cream narrowly misses her scarf, then takes it off and folds it, placing it on the table. I've  _never_ seen Hotaru without her scarf on. I'm barely used to her acting like this. But... she's my friend.  
  
    "I'd like to, maybe we can get together at least once a month," Larry says, almost desperately. "And Hotaru can twist our arms if we skip out on it."  
  
    "I'll be sure to twist Heather's too, about this meeting she missed," Hotaru says confidently. "Just as soon as she and Laura are finished being lewd."  
  
    "Narrow windows of opportunity for that," I snark. Hotaru and Larry both giggle.  
  
    Our paths are diverging, and I know that. But I feel like I've finally got my claws into some purchase. We can still all be friends if we just try. If we just expend our efforts and make sure we don't forget about each other. No matter where in life we are, our friends are just a text or train ride away. If I reach out, I'll never lose my friends.  
  
    Okay, that was pretty nauseating.  
  
    I'll blame my ice cream. It's kinda extremely sweet.


	18. "Nil"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This character is (at the moment) unconnected to any of my other works, and prior knowledge of any other lore I have built up is not required.

    The structure of the world is built from mice.  
  
    So you would hear from other mice, anyway.  
  
    Such is the mystique mice have built for themselves. It permeates the culture of mammals, to the point where a multiplying mouse is one of the thirteen mythological Celestials. Zootopia is a place where anyone can live anywhere, yet mice apportioned a section of it for themselves and others of their tiny size, Little Rodentia.  
  
    This is the brand that mice have managed to cultivate for themselves.  
  
    As one of the smallest mammals, my ancestors knew they couldn't be complacent. Too small to aid with farming like rabbits, but with a breeding capability similar to them, we were once called vermin; a plague. Mice had to do something to prove their worth to the mammals at large.  
  
    So, they did the only thing they could do big: ideas.  
  
    Infrastructure, science, technology. Anything that needed small, precise hands. Delicate dentistry and surgery. Intelligent mice spearheaded the development of many city-states, including Zootopia.  
  
    Species are often distinguished between for their most notorious members. Mice are no different. There are a lot of them, which leads to a greater chance that some of them will be geniuses, adept technicians, or the like.  
  
    But a lot of us are just mice. Just your average mammals. We can only do the jobs of larger mammals smaller, for us. And most are happy with that.  
  
    What, though, happens to a mouse that's good at _combat_? It's almost a joke. Many other small mammals including the likes of jerboas and sugar gliders are much more interesting to watch duke it out. What happens when you get a mouse with a disdain for standard procedure, a penchant for getting into fights, and a thirst for danger?  
  
    Well, you get me.  
  
    I won't tell you my real name, not while I still live. I was picked up by an organization for my skills. Or rather, because they saw something in me they wanted.  
  
    They let me know in no uncertain terms that I was a replacement for their _last_ mouse.  
  
    We're expendable, cheap. All we can do to have an impact on our team of much larger mammals is to get in and out, maybe report back some information. And if we fail, we die. There will always be more mice.  
  
    To let me know my place, they gave me the designation "Agent 0.0". I suppose it was a "cute" sort of representation of a mouse ears and nose. It was a hassle to say over comm lines; too many syllables. So they started calling me "Zero". But even that didn't stick. I made it through several missions alive, and I earned the nickname "Nil", one that has stuck, and one I quite like.  
  
    Nil. There is next to no chance I will be caught. Not a trace of me will be seen by the enemy, and then I am gone.  
  
    But other than all that, I'm a standard gray mouse.  
  
    Today's a mission. We received reports that a dangerous criminal head by the name of "Mr. Grizzle" is going to be doing a weapons deal with another group. "Real" firearms are hard to come by in many city-states, mostly due to decency laws. Even a small-caliber handgun does horrifying things to a small mammal. I've seen them. I won't try to sound tough, I lost my dinner that evening.  
  
    "This is Nil, I'm getting into position," I speak into the transmitter in my ear.  
  
    "Radio silence confirmed, Nil, good luck," my handler tells me. I take the transmitter out and stash it in a tiny crevice near a dumpster and a wall. I'll be way too far from the phone transmitting my signal, and there are just some things you can't miniaturize. I can't carry everything.  
  
    One thing I am carrying is a tracking device. Small, but large enough to a mouse. Though it's light, I have to wear it on my back. I'll only get one shot at my mission, but what else is new?  
  
    I'm climbing in the spacious air ducts that lead to all of the rooms of the office building, like a metal labyrinth. The meeting is supposed to occur on the first floor, which clues me in to the transfer of goods. Mice are great for infiltrating ducts, as I'm sure I don't need to tell you. Even so, I have to wear gloves and socks that dampen the noise made when I'm scurrying through them.  
  
    The hardest part is scaling the sheer walls of the duct, but these are the situations I train for. I hear a small shuffle over the edge and freeze. Pressing my muzzle's top against the cold metal, I slowly, slowly peek my head up until my eyes flash over the corner, and immediately move back down.  
  
    I wasn't expecting a guard in the ducts, but Mr. Grizzle apparently thinks of everything. There's a gerbil pacing around the duct above me, and I'm going to have to act soon. My load isn't getting any lighter, and my paws are starting to lose purchase. I'm pretty sure I saw that he was equipped with a crossbow. Again, some things don't miniaturize well, but an arrow's an arrow.  
  
    I hazard one more peek. The moment he turns his head and body to patrol the other direction, I'm on him in a flash. I grapple him so that he can't use his arms, and put him in a sleeper hold. He thrashes around violently, and I almost lose my grip three times, but eventually he goes down. I take his crossbow and spare arrows. They will do nothing to anything but a mammal of my size. I think about killing the gerbil, testing the arrow already loaded in the crossbow. It might be a mercy if the rumors about Mr. Grizzle are true. Either way, the gerbil is disarmed, and I hear voices coming from the room just beyond. Attaching the armaments to my outfit and deciding I have no time to lose, I continue on.  
  
    Conveniently for both the gerbil guard and me, the vent to the duct has been loosened to the point where it can be cracked open, and there's a shelf that nearly reaches the duct, which will make an escape easy enough, provided I survive.  
  
    Involuntarily, I tense up as I look through the grate. An intimidating grizzly bear is already in the room, and he has a dour, unflinching expression. Could this be Grizzle himself? Given the surname, it would make sense, though none of us know what kind of mammal Grizzle actually is. The bear's standing near a large wooden crate.  
  
    Three foxes slink from the shadows. I quickly recognize them as being Anihonese foxes; with smaller muzzles, heights, and eyes than Zootopian foxes. The way they carry themselves and their sharp white suits are indicative of them being in a gang. Like most gangs in Anihon, they're usually mono-species. I believe these are three members of the Nine-tails. The middle one is even wearing a decorative kitsune mask, all white with red striations, and even more slit eyes. One of the foxes to the side, my right, has a metal briefcase.  
  
    This isn't good. All four of them are "noses". Even with the heavy-duty scent-blocker I use, one wrong move could put me in scent range of the bear or foxes, and that would end poorly for me.  
  
    "Mr. Grizzle?" The masked fox asks.  
  
    The bear doesn't respond. He reaches into his coat, which makes all of the foxes flinch, and the fur on my neck tingle. He retrieves a phone and places it on the wooden crate. I can barely make it out, but the contact on-screen reads "Mr. Grizzle", and the only image on screen is of a statue of an ancient bear holding a fish in its mouth.  
  
    "Gentlemammals," the gruff voice from the phone speaks. "So glad you could make it."  
  
    The two foxes with visible faces look put off, and the body language of the masked one indicates reserved anger.  
  
    "We were told we would be meeting with Mr. Grizzle," the masked fox speaks again in an unamused voice.  
  
    "Oh but you are," the phone's voice says with a quiet malice, "just not in the fur. I'm very busy today, many meetings to attend."  
  
    The foxes now visibly look insulted, and one of them reaches into his coat.  
  
    "Before we do anything brash..." what I'm presuming is Mr. Grizzle interrupts them over the phone, "allow me to introduce Nate Beardorf. He will be taking excellent care of you three today. Especially if there are any problems. I'm hoping that this will go over amicably."  
  
    Nate makes a big show of standing up straight and looking down at the foxes. He towers over them. Even if one of them shot him, I'm pretty sure it would only piss him off. All three of these foxes at once would be torn asunder before they could land a good hit in. Bears are terrifying. The "lead" fox makes a subtle gesture to call off the goon.  
  
    While taking this in, I check the room for any obvious cameras. If Grizzle can actually see what's going on, I might not have a ghost of a chance of getting the tracking device on that crate. If he just predicted that the Anihonese would react poorly, which was a small jump, I could still have a shot.  
  
    "Now, first things first," Grizzle says politely. "Did you bring the money?"  
  
    The masked one nods to the fox carrying the briefcase. He opens it, showing off bundles of Zootopian dollars.  
  
    "Mm," Nate grunts. A verbal cue. Excellent.  
  
    "Excellent," Grizzle agrees. The fox shuts the case again, keeping it close to his chest. Not like he could keep it from the bear if he really wanted it. "Nate, please show them the goods."  
  
    Nate removes the phone from the crate and sets it on a desk. He works he latches of the crate and opens it. The unmistakable scent of chilled fish hits me, even from where I'm hiding. I'm confused at the revelation, but the scent is a good opportunity to try to sneak closer, so I get through the crack in the vent and start making my way closer, sliding down the furniture while the foxes are astonished, fixated on the salmon stuffed into the crate.  
  
    "What is this?" The clearly angry masked fox shouts. "Do you think to trick a Nine-tails, Mr. Grizzle?"  
  
    "Far from it!" Grizzle replies. The expression of Nate has not changed one tiny bit. It's chilling in its own way. With a word these proud foxes would be opened up like, well, like gutted fish. "Thought you might like a snack on your way back to good ol' Anihon."  
  
    "He mocks us," one of the henchmammals says to the masked one, to which he violently gestures with his paw, shaking his head.  
  
    "Is there a point to this?" The masked fox looks up at Nate, as if he will give him the answer.  
      
    "The fish are just a little diversionary tactic to get you through a ship inspection, my good mammals," Grizzle almost purrs, but his voice is a bit too gritty for that. "Nate, if you'd show them."  
  
    The foxes are on edge as Nate reaches deep into the crate and lifts. The crate has a second level hidden beneath it, and under the fish is a modest, but deadly-looking assortment of assault weapons and pistols. The visible foxes are awed, and the tension fades from the masked one.  
  
    "...This is indeed what we agreed on," he says carefully.  
  
    "Of course!" Grizzle says with ominous amicability. "We here at the Grizzle Corporation are all about building trustworthy partnerships."  
  
    The fox hands over the briefcase to Nate, who takes it delicately. The masked one nods at the other two, and they begin trying to lift the crate.  
  
    "Please, allow Nate," Grizzle says. I grit my teeth. Maybe he heard them struggling.  
  
    The foxes nod, watching Nate rather effortlessly hoist the crate up. They turn, starting to lead out of the room.  
  
    "This way," one of them says.  
  
    I will not get another opportunity. The foxes backs are turned and the crate is lifted from the ground. Now's my only chance to plant the tracking device on the underside of the crate, where it will fit in the inner section of the panel and not be crushed or be likely to be noticed.  
  
    I scurry with all of my speed straight for the box. If I veer to the left or right Nate will notice me, even in this poor light. And bears are so low to the ground that his pants nearly drag the floor. Nevertheless, I take my chance and dart right underneath Nate's legs, attach the device and quickly activate it, and dart back into the room and hide behind the doorway. The crate was in the way of Nate's sight from below. There's no way I was detected-  
  
    "Wait," says a fox. "I smell rodent."  
  
    A strangled breath leaves my throat. I look around the room, but there's no place to hide quickly enough to avoid all sight lines. I dash from the doorway to behind a desk and press myself against it. My nerves tingle with adrenaline and dread. The fox pokes his head back into the room and has a cursory glance.  
  
    "It's just my friend Orson," Nate says. His voice is alarmingly gentle. "He's guarding the ducts."  
  
    "Kaito, get back here," the voice of the masked one demands. He complies, and I feel the crushing fear in my chest release just a little.  
  
    My mission is nearly complete. As the door shuts to the office, I climb back up to the vent, taking out the crossbow I purloined from Orson. The gerbil is still unconscious on the floor of the vent. I level the crossbow at him as I walk past.  
  
    Well, in some ways, I might owe him my life. It'd be a sin to Karma to kill him now.  
  
    Not that I believe in Karma.  
  
    However, I get the feeling the punishment Orson might eventually receive, if his failure is found out, would be much more severe than a simple death would be. He'll just have to hope that Mr. Grizzle is as merciful as I am.  
  
    I make my way out of the vent and into the city as I see what I presume to be the foxes' vehicle driving off. With no eyes on me, I go to the hiding place of my transmitter and fit it into my ear.  
  
    "Nil. Mission complete."  
  
    "The transmitter is operational. Well done, Nil."  
  
    I allow myself to smile. I'll live to see another day, another mission. I intend to keep working as long as my tiny heart beats, but who knows when that might be snuffed out? One wrong move, and I'll taste oblivion. But until then, I'll be the ghost that feeds that vital information to my superiors. The story will repeat.  
  
    "What was that?" Someone might ask.  
  
    "It's nothing," the reply will come.  
  
    And it will be.


	19. Marcy Henderson

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The subject matter strays more to the "mature" side this time.
> 
> This chapter features an original character that is disconnected to my other works.

    My name's Marcy. I'm a spotted hyena.  
  
    If you know anything about spotted hyenas, you know that we girls are... um, a little different than the females of most other species.  
  
    A lot of those differences manifest as external. You might have seen hyena girls with their own little clique. A lot of them are buff, "butch", you could say. You might even notice that, on average, male spotted hyenas are more friendly and jovial than the females, even "gentle".  
  
    That's only the most obvious differences. There's another one.  
  
    It doesn't really come up in polite conversation, and it wouldn't come up at all if high school gym classes and assorted sports teams didn't exist. But it's... well, a lot different than a typical female species. It's also why most hyena mothers choose to get C-sections. I might have tried to avoid gym classes altogether if I didn't really, really love swimming. It's my one true passion. But after exerting myself, I couldn't really stand to  _not_ go wash off, and then the questions start...  
  
    "Is it real?"  
    "Are you a guy?"  
    "Are all hyena girls like this?"  
  
    And those are the more innocent questions. I had one hare girl tell me that I should use the male locker room because I was "making the other girls uncomfortable". Even if she was speaking for herself, it really cut into me. I tried to avoid her whenever possible in future encounters.  
  
    But that's the thing... _usually_ , your average hare would never have the guts to go up to a female hyena and tell them what they thought. It's because even though our species is different compared to other females, I'm different compared to other  _hyena_ females. I don't have all that heaping extra load of androgen that most hyena girls seem to get. I'm not tough, I'm gentle. I'm not assertive. I'm more like a hyena male, though I don't think of myself as one. I'm more like your average female from another species.  
  
    Mom helped me through high school, at least. She's your typical tough hyena, with a typical job for one of us. She works in construction. She tells me to have pride in being a hyena, and even to have pride that I'm different from a typical female hyena. She gives me a lot of frank pep talks that I assume would come from the father of another species.  
  
    As far as my dad, he's really sweet. A gentle, bespectacled bank teller. Really bad at grasping humor, kind of unusual for a hyena. There's a little truth to that stereotype that hyenas will laugh at anything. We're kind of mirthful on a whole. It's really embarrassing when he laughs at his own bad jokes, though. He's always been there for me, offering me emotional support, hugs, and reassurance. I couldn't really ask for better parents.  
  
    The big problem for me, at least, is that it's one thing to get constant reinforcement that you're "okay", and then continue to feel like you're an outcast, even among your own species.  
  
    After high school, I wanted to pursue my dream of swimming, so I joined a team of all-female hyenas. Mono-species teams practicing an event are kind of a rarity in Zootopia, except when it comes to training for the Pan-Animal Games. It's an old event with a lot of prestige behind it, but also a lot of strange, exacting, and kind of antiquated rules. Teams are selected from each event from several city-states around the world based on their average merit compared to other medal winners of that species. The species team with the highest merit compared to the team that showed up in the last games is selected from each participating city-state for each event. I guess it's so that the show is more interesting to watch, else it would be cheetahs in the short sprints all the time and so on.  
  
    So, I just so happened to manage to be a part of the female spotted hyena team training to represent Zootopia in swimming. To my dismay and despite my best efforts, I'm definitely the worst swimmer of the four. It doesn't seem to matter how hard I train or how long I practice, the other three seem to beat me at everything. I keep thinking I'll get kicked off the team, but it hasn't happened yet, and I have a suspicion as to why.  
  
    Also, there's always a lot of teasing after the swim meets.  
  
    On this particular day, we've just wrapped up our swimming and have stripped down in the locker room to go to the showers.  
  
    "Nice swimming today, Marcy," Cale says, patting me on the back, the lower back. Almost too close to my rear. I yip a little and start forward, to some chuckling from the other girls. Cale's kind of your typical hyena girl, she's got that particular "handsome-pretty" look to her face that's hard to properly describe. She's in really good shape.  
  
    "Mhm, Marcy the Mascot," Keysha says, turning on the water and soaking herself under it. My eyes sweep away from them at this nickname. Keysha's the most toned and strong of all of us, also the tallest. She's constantly clocking the best times, and seems to have limitless endurance.  
  
    "Always a treat," Lynne says, giving me a leer and smirk as she walks by. She's actually the shortest of us, but she just swims and swims and never tires out; she  _always_ outlasts and outspeeds me. She's even beaten Cale's times on some occasions. She's also a huge pervert. "You've  _got_ to think about going into porn, Marcy."  
  
    "Wh-what!?" I nearly squeak, suddenly feeling more naked than the other three, though we're all unclothed. "I don't want to do that...!" The sudden thought of mating with some random mammal makes me feel really uncomfortable.  
  
    "C'mon, you'd be perfect for it, you've got the body," Lynne winks, giving me another once over. Even though I'm a "girly" hyena, our development doesn't hinge too much on how much androgen we have, so... ah, I'm not that "small", in more ways than one. I hate being a conversation piece, though. "There's a real niche market for hyena girls in porn cause of what we got."  
  
    "Mm-mm..." Keysha wags her head. "You'd never catch me doin' that. I'd never even go interspecies. From what I heard, the guys're always poutin' if you got bigger junk than them. Takes a hyena male to appreciate us."  
  
    "Your loss," Lynne grins impishly, "you just have to find the right mammals!"  
  
    "Yeah, well not everyone's into what you're into, Lynne," Cale mutters as she washes up. They seem to always be talking about stuff like this. It's usually Lynne who brings it up, but still. I try to keep to myself and wash up.  
  
    We get done quickly, though not quickly enough for me, then we start drying off. I cover myself with my towel quicker than the other girls bother to, even though we all hear some rustling going on in the lockers.  
  
    Coach Henderson is there. She's one of the largest female hyenas I've ever seen, and she doesn't look happy. She's rummaging through Keysha's locker.  
  
    "Uh, what's going on, Coach?" Cale asks, stepping forward from the group of us.  
  
    "Lionesses are out of the running for the swim team," Coach sneers. I blink; this sounds like good news to me. "One of 'em was caught doping, so she ruined it for their whole team. So, it's 'random' locker check time. I'm making sure none of  _you_ pups have stashed anything."  
  
    "So you start with mine, of course," Keysha folds her arms.  
  
    "Quiet," Coach barks, and Keysha twists her mouth, but complies. Finding nothing, she huffs.  
  
    "Um, could you  _not_ check mine?" Lynne holds up a finger. She receives an intense glare for her effort, then Coach Henderson  _immediately_ stomps over to hers, unlocking it and emptying it. She grins with little shame. "Eheheh..."  
  
    Out of the locker are thrown several, uh... rather unusual raunchy magazines. I wince and try not to look at whatever weird stuff Lynne's into as the magazines clatter to the floor.  
  
    "Hmph," Coach seems almost unsatisfied that that's all she found. "I couldn't care less what you paw off to, Lynne. But you're not gonna break the rules."  
  
    "Oh, okay then," Lynne tries a broad smile, which gets glared down again. She moves to Cale's locker, but she's clean as well. Cale just stands there, shrugging.  
  
    "Right then," Coach huffs. "See you pups bright and early tomorrow for another practice session." She storms off to her office.  
  
    "Notice she didn't check  _your_ locker, Marcy," Keysha sucks at her teeth as I gingerly remove my clothes from said locker. "Why could that be?"  
  
    "Well, look at her," Lynne laughs. "She's not exactly jacked."  
  
    "Rgh..." I mumble wordlessly to myself.  
  
    "That's not what I'm thinkin'," Keysha flicks her head. "It's cause Coach's your aunt, isn't it?"  
  
    "I don't know!" I bark, unlike myself. "Why should that matter?"  
  
    "Just sayin'..." Keysha looks at me with barely disguised irritation.  
  
    "Well, if Coach thinks we're doping, she's wrong," Cale smirks. "We'll just have to work even harder to impress her."  
  
    "Tch, we might," Keysha rolls her eyes.  
  
    "See you tomorrow, Marcy...!" Lynne sings, and I make sure not to be too close to her when she walks by. Else, I'm sure I'd get a whack on my rump that definitely would be on purpose.  
  
    I decide to stop by Coach's office on the way out, making sure do to so after the other girls have left.  
  
    Timidly, with my tail low and my paws held nearly together, I knock on her door.  
  
    "What is it?" She replies gruffly. Entering her office, I briefly glance around at the awards her teams have won. A medal from the Pan-Animal games would definitely look right at home here. Coach's intimidating form is hunched over the desk, glaring at her computer screen. I can't find the courage to speak until she spares a glance my way. "Marcy. Well? What is it?" She looks up as a thought occurs to her. "Anything I should know...?"  
  
    "...Um, I was thinking," I reply hesitantly. "I... maybe I should quit the team."  
  
    Her anger ignites instantly. "What!? _WHY_!?" She snarls. " _You_ haven't been taking anything, have you!?"  
  
    "No, no!" I shake my head violently. "It's just... I feel like I just bring this team down. I'm the worst swimmer on the team..."  
  
    She glares at me coldly without reply for a moment. I feel so nervous, my gut twists into a knot. I don't know what else she wants me to say.  
  
    "And... um, you know..." my teeth grit tightly and are visible in my frown. "Sometimes I think that the only reason I even got on the team is because, uh- because we're related..."  
  
    Though I don't know how, Coach manages to grow even  _more_ angry, with a look like wildfire in her eyes. She slams a fist down on her desk, then starts to dig her claws in.  
  
    "You  _dare_ accuse me of nepotism!?" She bellows. She squints her eyes shut tightly and looks like she's going to explode. She then simmers down to a slow boil, and looks at me with the most deadly glare I've ever seen. My legs feel like jelly. "Go. You talk to me tomorrow after thinking this over. If you really want to abandon this team- if you want to be both a quitter  _and_ a _disappointment_ , you be my guest! But I'd advise you think really,  _really_ carefully about this." Her voice is now barely over a whisper, but no less dangerous. She then explodes. " _UNDERSTAND_!?"  
  
    "I- um...!" I desperately feel like crying.  
  
    "I  _said_ are we _clear_ , Marcy!?"  
  
    With a weak, hasty nod, I flee her office as fast as I can, slamming myself against the door on the way out as my eyes squint involuntarily.  
  
    I can't really tell you where I went next. I just ran. I ran, trying to escape the tears that flowed from my eyes like rain. It wasn't actually raining, so I had nothing to blame but my own weakness and failures. Whoever heard of a crying hyena girl? They don't cry.  
  
    I think I got a lot of alarmed looks as I rushed past mammals on the streets as I was going nowhere in particular. I think I was headed to the subway, maybe to see how far away from Downtown I could get on my pass, but I must have gotten turned around at some point. I was kind of totally lost. Both metaphorically and literally.  
  
    I sit down on the curb and my head falls heavily into my paws. I couldn't keep from crying.  
  
    Failure. Disappointment. Quitter. I was all those things, and it was because no matter how hard I tried, I just couldn't measure up. I couldn't be tough or strong... it just wasn't what I was.  
  
    Not unless I could get my paws on some of those hormones, maybe...  
  
    It was a dangerous, foolish thought, but maybe if I could find out who was distributing them, I could-  
  
    A felt a spark of shame. Aunt Henderson would crush me if she found out. She would let mom and dad know just how much of a failure I was. I continued sobbing.  
  
    Sensing a form brush my fur, I look to the side and gasp as I see the most massive buffalo I've ever laid eyes on. I gasp and choke out a sob as he looks down at me with a blank face. He's clothed in a white and pink collared shirt and jeans.  
  
    I flinch and feel like running away as he digs his hand into his pocket. To my surprise, he pulls out his wallet, and shows me a badge.  
  
    "Chief Bogo of the ZPD."  
  
    I swallow difficultly. "Am I in trouble...?" I shiver, looking around. "Is this a 'no loitering' zone?"  
  
    "Well, no, but you certainly  _look_ troubled," Bogo says, a corner of his mouth gently piquing. "I am here to serve and protect, and you look like you're in need of assistance, young lady."  
  
    This genuinely surprises me. I've been called a boy by many other mammals, mostly other hyenas. Though, maybe because I look more like a girl of a typical species, maybe that's why...  
  
    "I don't think you can help me," I mumble through a snivel.  
  
    "I'll take that as a challenge," Bogo snorts. "What seems to be the problem?"  
  
    "I feel like giving up...!" I squeak out desperately through a pinched voice. "I'm on a female hyena swim team... and I'm so weak and slow compared to the other girls. I just... I feel so useless..."  
  
    Bogo seems to mull this around, his lips moving around his closed mouth. Eventually, he starts to form a sentence, but lets it fail. Trying again, he finally starts. "But you try as hard as you can, right?"  
  
    "It's not enough..." I grumble. "I'm just not built like the other girls. If I was..."  
  
    "What's your name?" He asks suddenly.  
  
    "Marcy Hhh-Henderson," I shudder. Hyenas are matriarchal, so usually the males take the females' names in marriage.  
  
    "Marcy," his booming voice is somehow gentle. "Do you think the other girls on your team think less of you for being slower?"  
  
    "Th-they tease me a lot," I bow my head.  
  
    "For being slow?"  
  
    "Ff-for a lot of stuff," I look away from his intense, but kind gaze. "I'm not really like most other hyena girls."  
  
    I dare to look back at the buffalo, and he's staring into the air. It's a calm evening. Kind of peaceful, really. Nice breeze. Not that I'm in much of a position to appreciate that, but somehow it strikes me as the strong buffalo officer seems to recollect.  
  
    "I have a couple of officers under my care," Bogo says, running his hands along his pants. "They're the smallest on my team, and the smallest on a normal police force. Now, obviously, they cannot physically do a lot of things that my other, bigger officers are capable of. But, they have other uses and strengths. I will admit I didn't initially see the value in them, but they are most definitely there." He snorts, giving a smirk as he shakes his head. "They sure are a couple of characters... and... I value them."  
  
    "Why's that?" I ask immediately.  
  
    "They bring a lot to the team, in their own way," Bogo grins, and even his grin is a little intimidating. "They're clever, eager, and play well off of each other. Only one mammal can be strongest or the fastest. I assume you've heard the expression: 'a team is only as strong as its weakest link'?"  
  
    "Yeah, and thats me," I'm sure I look pained, because Bogo widens his eyes. "I think everyone knows it, with how they tease me..."  
  
    "Have you ever said you dislike the teasing?" Bogo asks. I look at him quizzically, but he shrugs and shakes his head. He folds his arms and releases an extended, annoyed sigh. "Because let me tell you, that fox and bunny... they tease each other _constantly_. It's like a sickness that they can't cure. And I'm painfully aware that they are  _extremely_ fond of each other. Obnoxiously so. Their teasing is just one way they express that fondness."  
  
    "I just..." I'm sure I look very confused. "...What do I bring to the team, then?"  
  
    "I don't know if I could tell you that," Bogo huffed. "But let me take a wild guess and hit you with a cliche: 'your differences make you special'."  
  
    "Um, how?" I narrow an eye, disbelieving.  
  
    He shrugs. "Heck if I know. Maybe a morale boost? Maybe... seeing a hyena like you trying her hardest inspires them to give it their best efforts as well. Maybe just by being on the team and giving it a go... it makes them better."  
  
    I've never had this thought before. I probably look completely dumbfounded.  
  
    "...Wh-well... they  _are_ always calling me Marcy the Mascot..." I smile weakly. "One of them is."  
  
    "Ah, there you go, then," Bogo grins. "We all have a place in this world, Ms. Marcy. Sometimes we just don't know or appreciate it until we take a step back." He suddenly frowns. " _But_ , if you don't like that they tease you, then that's harassment. You should tell someone on the team you trust."  
  
    I think about this. _Do_ I trust anyone on the team...? I feel weak even talking to my aunt... "Maybe Cale?" I muse out loud.  
  
    "Tell them you don't like the teasing, and maybe it'll stop," Bogo gives a grin with his brow furrowed. "And if that doesn't work, tell them you know someone on the police. Someone _big_."  
  
    This actually gets a kind of wild giggle out of me, one of those silly ones that hyenas are stereotyped for. I can't really help it, though. Despite his scary appearance, he seems so nice. Wish I could say the same for my aunt... though I dunno anymore, maybe she's just tough because she's like that.  
  
    "Thank you, Chief Bogo," I chuckle.  
  
    "Don't mention it," his voice lowers, but still sounds kind of dangerous. In a fun way, though. "And I'm serious, give the police a call if you need help. Tell them you know the chief."  
  
    I wince a little, feeling warmth flood my face as this unfamiliar feeling of power surges through me. Then, I feel blindsided by something I forgot to ask.  
  
    "Um, Chief... where's the nearest subway station?"  
  
    Bogo laughs softly and points.  
  
    I finally get home and make it through dinner without talking to my parents about the issues I've had. I feel tense, like it's going to explode... but it appears like my aunt hasn't talked to my mom about the situation. When dinner's over, I feel a huge rush of relief.  
  
    I make it into my room and dress in some cute jammies, then look at my phone. It takes me quite a long time, but I finally write up a text to Cale.  
  
    [I kind of don't like it when the girls tease me.]  
  
    I must have checked the wording on it a dozen times, and my heart starts racing the moment I hit send. I feel my paw on my muzzle as, quicker than I thought, the indicator that she's read it pops up, followed by typing.  
  
    A  _lot_ of typing. I instantly feel terrified. She's probably going to insult me or call me a wuss. I can't bear it and place the phone on my bed. As soon as I do, the phone chirps from a received text.  
  
    I slowly, slowly pick the phone back up.  
  
    [Who's bothering you?]  
  
    The reply puzzles me, especially because it's taken so long to send and I resist the urge to just type "everyone". I sit there, kind of stunned, not knowing what to say. The text bubble shows up again and flickers on and off for another short eternity. What sort of paragraph could she be writing...?  
  
    [If someone's bugging you, I'll deck 'em.]  
  
    A short "puh!" of amusement escapes my face. More text bubbles, but this time the follow-up is quicker.  
  
    [Even if it's me!]  
  
    I laugh loudly at this, then clam up, a paw over my face. I smile at the phone for about a minute.  
  
    [Hello?]  
  
    Oh, right, I should probably reply. Uhhh...  
  
    [It's not too bad, really! I just feel kind of slow.]  
  
    More texting and erasing. I'm just confused at this point.  
  
    [It's Lynne, isn't it? That weirdo.]  
  
    [She's okay!] I lie.  
  
    [She's a pervert.]  
  
    Well, she isn't _wrong_.  
  
    [Keysha? She kind of has a rough family life.]  
  
    [I think she resents me for being Coach's niece. Even though, y'know, Coach isn't exactly nice to me.] I frown at the honesty I put into that one.  
  
    More typing and retyping.  
  
    [Well I'm glad you're nothing like HER. She's a hard-tail.]  
  
    That's  _also_ not wrong.  
  
    She adds: [I think she's just frustrated about the scandal. I wouldn't worry about it.]  
  
    I'm feeling a little bit better about this, so I put the phone down and get ready for bed. I'll go to practice bright and early tomorrow and give it my best. Maybe the Chief was right, maybe I do inspire someone just by giving it all I can. Maybe that's the only thing I can do to make the team proud of me.  
  
    I'm starting to drift off, snuggled with a few pillows, but another text chirp jars me.  
  
    [You OK?] It's Cale again.  
  
    [Yes, I'm fine.]  
  
    And I kind of believe it, too.    


End file.
